Against All Odds
by Lathbora Viran
Summary: When Duncan goes to the Circle, he finds two promising recruits: Daylen Amell, the insufferable battlemage, and Avina Surana, the elven healer. But how much could one additional mage Warden possibly change the course of the Blight? Complete. Sequel up.
1. The Circle

**Summary: ****When Duncan goes to the Circle, he finds two promising recruits: Daylen Amell, the insufferable battlemage, and Avina Surana, the elven healer. But how could one additional mage Warden change the course of the Blight?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age. I am merely using the characters and some dialogue. **

* * *

**Duncan**

The Chantry teaches us that it is the hubris of men which brought the darkspawn into our world. The mages had sought to usurp Heaven, but instead they destroyed it. They were cast out, twisted and cursed by their own corruption. They returned as monsters, the first of the darkspawn. They became a Blight upon the land, unstoppable and relentless. The dwarven kingdoms were the first to fall, and from the Deep Roads the darkspawn drove at us again and again until finally we neared annihilation.

Until the Grey Wardens came.

Men and women from every race, warriors and mages, barbarians and kings... the Grey Wardens sacrificed everything to stem the tide of darkness, and prevailed.

It has been four centuries since that victory and we have kept our vigil. We have watched and waited for the darkspawn to return. But those who once called us heroes... have forgotten.

We are few now, and our warnings have been ignored for too long.

It may even be too late, for I have seen with my own eyes what lies on the horizon.

Maker help us all.

* * *

**Irving**

Irving is more than happy to have Duncan in the tower, recruiting or no. After all, he wants his apprentices to do well, to serve mankind; to put their power to good use.

Daylen Amell is one of the most promising; he completed his Harrowing not two weeks before Duncan arrived. Quite successful. He is a talented boy, if a little arrogant and rude. But perhaps that is putting it the wrong way; Daylen is a good young man. He has quite a few friends in the tower, including many of the senior enchanters and younger students. But Daylen is also rather... difficult with the templars and the Chantry sisters. If he keeps up the pranks, the jabs, and everything else, Irving won't be surprised if Greagoir claims Daylen is a blood mage just to get rid of him.

It might be best if he leaves the Circle. His skills as a battlemage are extraordinary, and those skills will make him an excellent Grey Warden candidate.

When Irving tells Duncan as much, he seems interested. "He has already undergone the Harrowing, I take it?"

"Yes," Irving tells him. "His test was one the quickest I've witnessed in a long time."

Although the apprentice who was sent into the Fade the previous night beat his record by at least five minutes.

"Interesting," Duncan murmurs. "I'd like to meet this young man, if it is no trouble."

"Of course, Duncan."

"What?" Greagoir cuts in. "Many have already gone to Ostagar - Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages! We've committed enough of our own to this war effort-"

"Your own?" Irving gives a disbelieving chuckle. "Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?"

Greagoir's eyes flash in anger. "How dare you suggest -"

"Gentlemen, please," Duncan interrupts, gesturing toward the doorway. "Irving, someone is here to see you."

Both Irving and Greagoir turn at once to see a lovely young elf in apprentice robes. Greagoir may not recognize her, but Irving does.

Avina Surana, the newest addition to the Circle. She had arrived when she was only four years old, about fifteen years before. Now, she is an accomplished mage. A healer and spirit specialist. Indeed, she is the one who surpassed Daylen Amell in her Harrowing.

Her gray-blue eyes are wide with excitement, her long brown hair in braids coiled around the back of her head. Her features are dainty and fresh with youth, and though she's an elf, she is almost as tall as the other human female apprentices.

"Hello," she greets quietly, eyeing Duncan curiously.

Irving's wizened face draws into a smile, his eyes crinkling. "Ah, if it isn't our newest sister in the Circle. Come, child."

Obediently, she steps forward and Irving makes his way over to his desk where her new staff, ring, and robes sit, and brings them over to her.

Duncan gazes at her with interest. "This is...?"

Before Irving can answer, she speaks for herself. "My name is Avina, ser."

Greagoir sighs, obviously displeased. "Well, Irving, you're obviously busy. We will discuss this later." And with a polite nod to Duncan, he leaves the room.

"Of course," Irving agrees. "Now, then, where was I... this is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens," he introduces.

She smiles brightly in earnest kindness. "I am pleased to meet you, ser."

She is such a charming young lady. Not even the templars can maintain their icy demeanor around her; her aura is so warm and bright. She is happy and full of life, even in this place.

"You've heard about the war brewing to the south, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army at Ostagar," he explains.

"I would like to join and defend Ferelden," she tells Duncan.

"With the darkspawn invading, we need all the help we can get," Duncan encourages. "especially from the Circle. They have formed into a horde in the Kokari Wilds and threaten to invade the north into the valley. I fear if we don't drive them back, we may see another Blight."

"Duncan, you worry the poor girl with talk of Blights and darkspawn. This is a happy day for her."

"We live in troubled times, my friend."

"We should seize moments of levity, especially in troubled times," Irving tells him, then turns his attention back to Avina. "Your Harrowing is behind you. Your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi."

She bows her head. "Thank you, First Enchanter."

"I'm sorry," says Duncan, raising an eyebrow. "What is this 'phylactery'?"

"Blood is taken from all apprentices when they first come to the tower and is preserved in special vials."

Special vials that will lead the Templars to her if she ever flees the Circle.

"So they can be hunted if they turn apostate," Duncan understands.

Irving sighs. "We have few choices. The gift of magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove we are strong enough to handle our power responsibly. You, my dear, have done this. I present you with your robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia." He hands her the bundle and she accepts it gratefully. "Wear them proudly, for you have earned them."

She's practically bouncing with joy as she thanks the First Enchanter.

"It goes without saying that you shall not discuss the Harrowing with those who have not undergone the rite," he warns her. "Now then, take your time to rest, or study in the library. The day is yours."

She nods and turns to go, but Irving recalls what he was originally speaking to Duncan about. "Though, I would appreciate it if you sent the mage Daylen Amell to me, if you see him. I would like to speak with him."

She nods again and shoots out the door like lightning, a skip in her step.

Duncan smiles after her. "She's a lovely girl."

"She is," Irving agrees. "Quite talented, as well. I'm sure she has quite the future ahead of her."

Truer words were never spoken.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Ostagar.**


	2. Ostagar

**Much of the dialogue is from the actual game. **

* * *

**Alistair**

Why is it always Alistair who gets stuck with jobs like this? Why can't he, I dunno, prepare with the other soldiers? Run supplies? Poison test the cheese?

But no. It seems the revered mother would rather he be a toad. From the way she looks at him, he wouldn't be surprised.

"I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence."

It doesn't matter that he's being totally polite; the mage is having none of it.

"What her reverence 'desires' is of no concern to me. I am busy helping the Grey Wardens- by the king's orders, I might add."

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" Alistair asks cheekily.

The mage's scowl only worsens. "Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!"

"Yes, I was harassing _you_ by delivering a message."

"Your glibness does you no credit."

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a figure of a person, just standing there watching. Are they gathering a crowd? How lovely. It's so nice how everyone in camp sticks together.

"And here I thought we were getting along so well! I was even going to name one of my children after you," he says, mock sadly. "The _grumpy_ one."

"Enough," the mage spits. "I will speak to the woman if I must!" He turns and storms off. "Get out of my way, fool."

The figure, an elven woman, steps aside for him and he's gone.

Well. Alistair supposes it could have been worse, right?

"You know," he says as he moves forward. "One good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

Now that he's facing her he can tell that though she's almost average height, she's an elf. Her hair is pulled back, revealing her two pointed ears. She's pale and lean, and the dress (robes?) she wears is form-fitting, made of shiny orange and blue material.

Glancing at her face, Alistair can't deny... she is rather pretty. Elves usually are, yes, so he shouldn't be surprised, but most of the elves wandering around camp are messengers or servants. He doesn't recognize her as such, but maybe she's new? Or something...

As he watches, her expression changes from confused to amused. "I know _exactly_ what you mean."

She's even prettier when she smiles.

"It's like a party; we could all stand in a circle and hold hands. _That_ would give the darkspawn something to think about. Wait, we haven't met, have we?" he asks. If they have, he doesn't remember. "I don't suppose you'd happen to be another mage?"

She pauses, as if uncertain, then wiggles her fingers at him and grins in an evil, witchy manner. "I am indeed a mage."

Oh, dear. "Really? You don't look like a mage." That sounded better in his head. "Uh... that is... I mean... how interesting." That explained why she's wearing robes, at least. Then it dawns on him. "Wait, I do know who you are. You're Duncan's new recruit, from the Circle of Magi. I should have recognized you right away. I apologize."

"I hope you don't have a problem with me having magic," she states, arching a fine brow.

"No problem," he insists. "It's just my background makes mages nervous. And nervous mages make me nervous. I don't want to be a toad; I like the way I am." He whispers the last part as if it's a secret. "Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Alistair, the new Grey Warden, though I guess you already knew that. As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining."

"I'm Avina," she tells him. "Pleased to meet you."

"Right, that was the name." Avina Surana, he recalls. "You know... it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?"

She cocks her head to the side playfully. "Oh? You want more women in the Wardens, do you?"

"Would that be so terrible?"

She gives him a look.

"Not that I'm some drooling lecher... or anything please stop looking at me like that."

She giggles and he almost loses his train of thought.

"So, I'm curious," he continues. "Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?"

She shakes her head.

"When I fought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how monstrous it was. I can't say I'm looking forward to encountering another. Anyhow, whenever you're ready, lets get back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started."

"That argument I saw... what was it about?"

"With the mage? The Circle is here at the king's request and the Chantry doesn't like that one bit. They just_ love_ letting the mages know how unwelcome they are. Which puts me in a bit of an awkward position; I was once a templar."

She frowns slightly. He wonders, briefly, if this makes her uncomfortable about traveling with him. Hopefully she won't take as much offence as the other mage. "You were a mage-hunter?"

"Not that that's all templars do, but yes. The Chantry raised me until Duncan recruited me six months ago. I'm sure the revered mother meant it as an insult - sending me as her messenger - and the mage picked right up on that. I never would have agreed to deliver it but Duncan we're all to cooperate and get along. Apparently they didn't get the same speech."

"I guess not," she agrees. "I suppose we should start preparing."

"If you have any questions, let me know. Otherwise, lead on."

* * *

**Avina**

She can't stop smiling at that man, Alistair.

She's known him all of five minutes, and already he's one of her favorite people.

Maybe it's the way he jokes around. Maybe it's because he's adorable. Either way, she likes him. If the others are half as nice as him, she will be a very happy Warden.

She hopes she isn't bothering him with the way she chatters on the way to Duncan. But she just can't keep her mouth shut. She's free. She's breathing fresh air and meeting new people and fighting! All in the same day!

Everything is more than she could have dreamed.

She can't wait to prove herself.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Daylen Amell.**


	3. Daylen Amell

**The story will not be very interesting or different until much later. You have been warned.**

* * *

**Daylen**

Daylen did not want to become a Warden.

He still does not.

It's not about him or what he wants, however. The Blight coming, and the Circle only sends seven mages? _Seven? _

No. They need him. He's more of a help here on the battlefield than sitting in the tower, hating and being hated by the templars, learning and teaching unnecessary lessons.

But, ugh, fighting darkspawn is not high on his list of things he wants to do.

With Avina Surana, of all people.

Yes, yes, Avina's a talented girl and all, but she is not prepared for war and Daylen knows it. She's too soft. Too _nice_. Too vulnerable. She's not ready to be a Grey Warden.

Daylen thinks she won't survive the Joining.

And if she does, she'll be devastated by the cost.

This was his problem with her. Back in the tower, he treated her coldly as well; not because he hated her - because he didn't, and still doesn't - but because he had no time for friends such as she. Girls like Avina were too delicate, usually afraid of the outside world, and that bores him. If she despised him, it was of no concern to him.

He had other friends in the tower, of course. And occasionally he did not spend his nights alone. The tower was full of lonely mages of both genders and Daylen is a fine looking young man; dark hair, dark eyes, dark voice. But these _friends_ of his were not overly important to him. Not like Jowan had been to Avina.

Daylen thinks himself very practical. He does what is needed, when it is needed, no matter his personal feelings. And this is the main difference between him and Avina. If she is not careful, she will not last the night.

* * *

Ostagar is more or less what Daylen was expecting; a camp full of sweaty men of all ages with few mages and even fewer females. The lack of elven Wardens surprises him.

Avina scurried off moments after meeting the king, leaving Daylen to his thoughts. He shrugs indifferently; it matters little to him whether or not she follows him. He will not follow her, so he is on his own.

He meets Daveth first, and he is so obviously a street rat cutpurse that Daylen can hardly keep polite conversation going. He smiles and nods when Daveth speaks, but that is all he does.

Ser Jory is a swordsman, a large man of thick build and thin hair. He doesn't seem too smart, but then again how smart could one expect a Grey Warden recruit to be?

He does not search for this 'Alistair' fellow; he has seen no sign of him or Avina. Daveth and Jory claim to have seen nothing of an elven woman in mage robes, so he assumes she went off in search of him.

While he waits, he goes to stand by the fire like Duncan and the others. Though Jory and Daveth talk amongst themselves, he does not join their conversation.

And finally, Avina shows up. Daveth's eyes widen and his mouth curls into a predatory smirk as he watches her lean body move, and Daylen almost growls in disgust. A blonde man in grey iron chainmail follows closely behind her, and Daylen does not miss the way her eyes linger on him.

For a moment, the recruits are uneasy; Alistair will not lead. Daveth does not wish to either, and Daylen knows Avina does not want to take control from anyone who may already desire it.

Daylen sighs. "Alright, follow me, then."

Ser Jory lowers his eyebrows in confusion, but he does not question Daylen's motives.

And once they are out of the gates, they wander straight into a pack of wolves.

He has never seen Avina in action before; he admits, she's stronger than he anticipated. She sweeps her arms and a faint purple glow surrounds her small body - a shield - and she spins the staff in her hands, preparing to fight at close range. A wolf lunges for her ankles and she cracks the metal down on it's skull with shattering force.

Daylen does not do the same. He is already in motion, stepping forward and tapping into the Fade. He brings a hand up and at once there's a flash of light and lightning leaps from his outstretched palm, straight into the flank of one of the animals.

The fight continues, but Daylen can't help but feel as if they are not alone. He has the distinct, nagging feeling of something or someone watching him.

When the first darkspawn emerges from the Wilds, he can feel the terror coming from Daveth and Ser Jory. Avina falls back and stretches her arms out toward the sky, as if embracing it, and a fireball shoots down on the other group with a wave of unbearable heat.

"Avina!" Daylen barks. "We need their blood! We cannot collect it if it's dry!"

She spares him a glance, her eyes wide, and she nods uncertainly.

He is glad she is here, though. Her cries of excitement and rage seem to spur the men on and they fight with less fear in their eyes than before. Her wards prove quite useful when they come up against a darkspawn emissary. The opposing magic barely fazes Alistair and he slams his shield into the monster's face.

When at last they reach the ruined temple, Daylen is so paranoid he's glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. He knows something is watching him. He can feel it.

Then, "Well, well," comes a female's voice. "What have we here?"

Daylen whips around, ready for anything. But instead of an ambush, he is greeted with the sight of the most stunningly beautiful woman he has ever seen.

* * *

**Morrigan.**

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: the battle.**


	4. The Joining

**I lied. This chapter isn't the battle.**

* * *

**Daylen**

"Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?" She moves gracefully down the steps of the ruined tower, her yellow eyes trained on Daylen. She's dressed in... an interesting black and purple outfit with a plunging neckline, revealing the creamy skin of her chest. "Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"

Daylen does not answer, instead letting his gaze travel down her exposed form in appreciation.

"What say you, hmm?" she asks. "Scavenger, or intruder?"

Daylen's lips curl into a slight grin. "And just how are these your Wilds?"

She laughs. "Because I know them as only one who owns them could. Can you claim the same?"

She moves forward again, past the others to stand between them and Ostagar. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go?' I wondered, 'Why are they here?' And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

"Don't answer her," Alistair says quietly, warning. "She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby."

"Oh," she scoffs. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

Alistair frowns. "Yes, swooping is bad."

Daylen notices a quiet giggle behind him; apparently Avina thought it was amusing.

Daveth, however, is terrified. "She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is. She'll turn us into toads!"

"Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" the Witch says. "You there, handsome lad," she addresses Daylen, "tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. Let us be civilized."

"I am Daylen Amell, my lady," he tells her with a slight bow of his head. "Pleased to meet you."

The Witch smiles in delight; he's glad she did not assume he was mocking her. "Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan."

Morrigan. Exotic, unique, beautiful. Just like her. He may have only known her for a few moments, but Daylen likes this woman. She's dangerous, no doubt, but that makes her all the more tempting.

And Daylen has never been one to resist temptation.

* * *

She leads them to her mother, a gray, wrinkled old woman who lives in a shack.

Well, there are worse places to live, after all.

"Greetings, mother. I bring to you Grey Wardens who -"

"I see them, girl," says the old woman, sizing the five of them up. "Mm. Much as I expected."

"Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?" Alistair asks disbelievingly.

"You are required to do nothing," she replies. "Least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide... either way, one's a fool!"

"She's a witch, I tell you!" Daveth warns. "We shouldn't be talking to her."

"Quiet, Daveth. If she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?" ser Jory hisses back.

The old woman smiles, narrowing her eyes. "There's a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant in the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will." Then she turns to Avina, who stands in Alistair's shadow warily. "And what of you?" she asks. "Does your elven mind give you a different viewpoint?"

The others in the group turn to her as well, awaiting her answer.

Avina hesitates, seeming to choose her words carefully. "I'm not sure what to believe," she tells her honestly.

Apparently, this answer is acceptable, as the grayed woman nods in approval. "A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. Be always aware - or is it oblivious? I can never remember. So much about you is uncertain... and yet I believe. Do I? Why, it seems I do!"

Alistair smirks and lifts an eyebrow at her. "So this is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?"

"Witch of the Wilds, eh?" says the old woman. "Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit to it! Oh, how she dances under the moon!" She throws her head back and laughs.

Morrigan does not seem as amused. "They did not come to listen to your wild tales, mother."

"True!" The Witch says at once, pulling a bundle of scrolls out of nowhere. At least, that's what it looked like. "They came for their treaties, yes? And before you begins barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these." She hands them to Daylen.

"You-" Alistair starts, confused. "Oh. You protected them?"

"And why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize."

"Thank you for returning them," says Avina.

"Such manners!" the old woman muses. "Always in the last place you look. Like stockings." Morrigan gives her an odd glance. "Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for!"

"Time for you to go then," Morrigan orders, almost coldly.

"Do not be ridiculous, girl!" her mother scolds. "These are your guests!"

"Oh," Morrigan pouts. "Very well. I will show you out of the woods. Follow me."

* * *

**Avina**

If she said she was not afraid, she would be lying.

She's terrified.

She worries. If she's not strong enough... should she fall, will the Circle be notified? Will they mourn?

She hasn't seen any elven Grey Wardens, and this worries her, too. Are elves different? Are they not usually strong enough to withstand the taint?

Daylen stands beside her, his face set in a calm mask of indifference. If he's worried about the Joining, he gives no indication. She wishes she had his confidence. She wishes she could stop worrying.

Alistair walks up and offers her a reassuring smile, and that shakes her from her thoughts as she smiles back. That he is here, that he supports her, will give her strength enough to see this through.

Daveth takes the cup first. His eyes roll back in his head, turning completely white. Avina cries out in horror as he falls to the ground, clutching his throat.

Ser Jory refuses it. As if he has a choice. But Avina is not prepared to see Duncan cut him down before her eyes.

When the chalice is passed to Daylen, he does not hesitate. He tips it back, spilling half of the remaining liquid into his mouth, swallowing with a grimace. His reaction is both like and unlike Daveth's, his eyes turn ghastly white, but instead of falling forward, he falls backward with a stunned look on his face. Duncan smiles - she knows he will survive.

And finally, Duncan stands before her. She takes the cup in her trembling hands, looking at Alistair once more. The cup is warm against her hands, but perhaps it's only because her skin is so cold with her terror.

She closes her eyes tight, tips the blood into her mouth, and _swallows_.

Pain, sharp and overwhelming, surges up from her stomach and into her mind as if it's alive. It screams within her, so loudly it drowns everything else out and she thinks she must have failed as the blackness closes in around her. This must be it.

A deafening roar fills her head, and she knows no more.

* * *

One eye cracks open.

The world is dark above her, only specks of light can be seen, very far away.

The world is cold, but she does not feel it. She's warm, and at first she doesn't know why. Then, she sees.

Warm amber eyes smile down at her, and she realizes she is not lying on the ground like she expected - no, instead, she is laying in Alistair's arms.

He didn't let her fall.

"It is finished. Welcome."

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: the actual battle.**


	5. The Battle

**Avina**

"How do you feel?"

As Alistair helps her to her feet, she stretches her muscles. Just to check. Other than the nausea and the burn in her throat, she supposes she's fine. "I'm okay."

Alistair releases her and a blush heats her cheeks as he looks at her. Suddenly she's shy like she's never been before, not even around other boys and/or men. "Did you have dreams?" he asks. "I had terrible dreams after my Joining."

"Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do," Duncan says. "That and many other things can be explained in the months to come."

"Before I forget," Alistair tells both Daylen and her. He holds out two chains, adorned with a large vial-like pendant, red with blood. Avina is instantly reminded of the phylacteries she had seen in the basement of the Circle Tower, but she quickly shoves the memory away as she takes one of the necklaces. "There's one last part to your Joining. We take some of that blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us... of those who didn't make it this far."

Duncan lays a hand on each of their shoulders. "Take some time. When you two are ready, I'd like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king."

Daylen raises an eyebrow as Avina's jaw drops. Never, not once in her life, had she ever suspected that she would be invited to a meeting with _the king._

Avina continues to gape, so Daylen answers for her. "Very well, we will be there shortly."

Duncan pats her on the back. "Good. The meeting is to the west, down the stairs. Please attend as soon as you are able."

Alistair is already gone by the time she turns, and Duncan heads to the west for the meeting, leaving her alone with Daylen. He gives her an appraising look as she nervously shifts from foot to foot.

"So you made it," he says, almost sounding impressed.

Though it was likely a rhetorical question, she nods her head.

"Are you ready to go?"

She starts to nod again, but stops, eyes wide, and she slaps a hand over her forehead.

"No, I have something I need to give to the kennel master," she remembers.

Daylen heaves a sigh, but does not protest. "Very well."

Surprisingly, he follows her, keeping her stride quick to match his. She notices then how empty the camp is becoming, how... eerily quiet. The soldiers must already be lining up in the forest, preparing to fight of the darkspawn. Dread coils low in her stomach, cold and heavy, but she shoves it back as she approaches the kennel master.

"The mabari's stable for now, but not improving. Unless I get that herb I told you about, there's not much hope."

She pulls the flower she managed to pick in the Wilds out of her pack, smooths the petals, and hands it to him. "Is this the flower you're looking for?"

"Let me see," he says eagerly, looking more closely at the bloom in his hands. "Yes, that's exactly it, wonderful! Give me a moment and I'll turn it into an ointment."

Daylen looks like he's ready to murder the guy for keeping them as he crosses his arms over his chest. "He'd better be quick," he mutters.

It takes a few minutes, but the kennel master returns, a wide grin on his face. "He looks better already. I'm sure he'd thank you himself, if he could."

Avina lets out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, almost wilting in relief. "What will happen to him now?"

"Let's give him a day or two to recover. Why not come back after the battle? Perhaps we can see about imprinting him on you?"

She can feel herself beaming excitedly like a little girl awarded with her first puppy. "You think that's possible?"

The man shrugs. "Maybe. It's likely he understands you're responsible for curing him. Mabari are at least as smart as your average tax collector." He scratches under his chin, glancing back into the pen. "Come back after the battle and just... take another look."

* * *

**Alistair**

"What?!" he sputters in disbelief. "I won't be in the battle?"

"This is by the king's personal request, Alistair," Duncan explains. "If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge."

"So he needs three Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch. Just in case, right?"

Daylen crosses his arms. "I agree with Alistair. We should be in the battle."

"That is not your choice. If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacons is lit, then Grey Wardens will be there. We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn, exciting or no."

Alistair pouts childishly. "I get it, I get it. Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no."

Beside him, Avina snorts and covers her mouth. "I think I'd like to see that."

A grin spreads across his face as he looks at her. "For you, maybe," he amends, "but it has to be a pretty dress."

Duncan sighs, but Alistair can see the amusement twinkling in his eyes. "The tower is on the other side of the gorge from the king's camp, the way we came when we arrived. You'll need to cross the gorge and head through the gate and up into the tower entrance. From the top, you'll overlook the entire valley."

Daylen nods. "When do we light the beacon?"

"We will signal you when the time is right," Duncan answers. "Alistair will know what to look for."

"And what if the Archdemon appears?" Avina asks.

"We soil our drawers," Alistair interrupts. "That's what."

"If it does," Duncan says, giving Alistair a pointed look. "Leave it to us. I want no heroics from any of you."

"I know what we have to do," Daylen says confidently.

"Then I must join the others. From here, you two are on your own. Remember, you are Grey Wardens," Duncan reminds them. "I expect you to be worthy of that title."

He starts to leave.

"Duncan..." Alistair stops him. "May the Maker watch over you."

Duncan nods. "May He watch over us all."

* * *

"Let's cross the bridge," Alistair yells over the noise of the battle. "And get to the tower of Ishal!"

Once again, Daylen is leading. He runs onto the bridge as quick as he can, followed closely by Avina and Alistair. Beside them, the archers fire arrow after arrow into the approaching horde.

He doesn't stop when he hears the first fireball hit the bridge behind him, or when he hears the cries of pain from the men who are crushed beneath it. He keeps running.

Only when Avina cries out in horror does he dare stop and turn around, only to see Alistair fall.

Before he can react, Avina is at his side, her hands glowing bright, wispy blue. As soon as she touches him he jolts up as if shocked, and scrambles to his feet. None of them say a word as they continue their journey up to the tower.

When they reach the gate, they run straight into the soldiers running out. "Help me," one of them says as they bump him. "They're everywhere. The tower, it's been taken!"

"What are you talking about, man? Taken how?" Alistair demands.

"The darkspawn came up through the lower chambers!" the man gasps. "They're everywhere! Most of our men are dead!"

"Then we have to get to the beacon and light it ourselves!" Alistair declares.

Daylen charges forward, only vaguely aware that the soldier has followed them.

* * *

The first floor is chaos.

Almost as soon as they set foot inside, they trigger a trap that goes up in flames. Only Daylen's quick thinking with a hastily-cast frost spell keep them from being burned alive.

Alistair's shield glows purple as he bashes one of the mosters in the face, amplified by Avina's power, and the soldier who followed them fires bolt after bolt with his crossbow.

The next few rooms have a less darkspawn and no traps, and for that the whole group is infinitely grateful. Avina and Daylen make short work of the further away groups while Alistair and their newest addition kill the closer threats.

In the room with the next set of stairs, there's a weapon stand. Daylen only hesitates a second before he grabs a mace and stuffs it into his pack. _He_ certainly won't use it, but you never know, right?

Everyone does their best to ignore the dead bodies skewered on spikes beside them.

* * *

**Daylen**

The second floor at first seems empty apart from the unfortunate guards' bodies and the fire in the center of the room. Alistair turns to Daylen, face flushed from the exertion. "Maker's breath! What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!"

"You could try telling them they're in the wrong place," Daylen suggests.

"Right, because this is all just a misunderstanding. We'll laugh about this later," he jokes. "At any rate, we need to hurry. We need to get up to the top of the tower and light the signal fire in time! Teyrn Loghain will be waiting for the signal!"

They charge ahead, but Daylen suddenly stops at the two doors, motioning for the others to do the same.

"As soon as we round this corner, I've no doubt there's an ambush waiting for us," Daylen cautions. "Alistair, Avina, go to the door on the left. Open it quietly. You," he addresses the soldier. "Will go to the right with me. Stay low, stay quiet."

Alistair and Avina obey, creeping over to the left door as Daylen and the soldier move to the right. Alistair opens the door a crack, then without further ceremony disappears inside, followed closely by Avina. The door shuts behind them with a small thump.

Daylen waits.

Only when he sees them come back out of the door does he dare open his, motioning for them to join him.

In the small hallway-like room, there are only two darkspawn.

But he was right. Just around the corner, there are several darkspawn archers lying in wait for them.

But the combined power of Daylen and Avina's tempests sends them into a horrible shuddering dance, killing most of them in moments.

The last room is quite like the one on the previous floor, and they make their way up the stairs.

* * *

The third floor is both easier and harder than the floors before.

In the first room there are more darkspawn, a couple traps, and within a few minutes they make it to the next room.

Cages line the walls, full of hounds alive and dead and the darkspawn inside, mostly genlocks, turn and snarl. A lever catches Alistair's eye and he calls out to the others.

"That lever over there! It releases the hounds!"

Faster than the monsters can anticipate, Avina ducks under the first's axe and sprints over to the lever, pulling it down with all her strength.

Only three dogs charge out of their kennels, but it is a tremendous advantage. The dogs are fearless, fierce and determined. They latch onto the enemies with unyielding grips as Daylen and the others fight their way through.

The rest of the rooms lining the hall are full of the foul creatures, but the dogs aid them. And at the end of the hallway, not one of them had fallen.

One last set of stairs.

* * *

The fourth and final floor is a nightmare that none of them could have ever imagined.

They rush in, searching for the beacon, to find a monstrous form huddled before it. Unhealthy purple-gray skin, riddled with scars, stands out, along with the monstrous horns protruding from it's head.

It turns and raises itself to it's full height - more than twice any normal man's - and _roars._

Maker.

Alistair and the soldier charge forward, swords at the ready, as Avina and Daylen prepare their staves. At the men's first attack, the creature shrugs it off, effortlessly knocking them a few feet back.

Alistair stumbles, adjusts his stance, and attacks again. Avina raises pieces of stone from the floor and hurls them at it and Daylen casts frostbite to stun it.

At this point, the monster gets agitated, and swings one of it's massive fists, throwing Alistair across the room. The soldier manages to drive his blade deep into the beast's flank, and it shrieks in pain, grabbing the man and lifting him several feet above the ground. There he dangles, helpless in it's grasp, and the giant begins beating him with it's fists again and again.

Avina screams and flames lick at the ogre's legs, but it does not stop. The soldiers body is nothing but a bloody mass, his head hanging limply to the side. Daylen fears they may never defeat the creature.

But then Alistair is there, leaping higher than either mage had ever thought possible, and his sword slices into the monster's neck. It screams, dropping the soldier, but Alistair only drives the sword deeper.

With a low rumble, the creature falls back - luckily for Alistair - and the floor shakes as it's body hits the stone floor.

It's still not dead. It reaches up to grab at Alistair, but he is faster. Before the ogre can touch him, Alistair has yanked his sword out of it's throat and shoves it right into it's eye.

The arms fall.

It's dead.

Daylen doesn't have to look at the soldier to know that he is dead, too.

Shakily, Alistair stands up, dragging his blade out of the gore that is now the monster's head. He hops down, wipes a bloody hand over his face, then points over to the pile of wood that must be the beacon.

"The beacon is over here. We've surely missed the signal. Let's light it quickly before it's too late."

Daylen doesn't bother with lighting a torch and dragging it over there. With a flick of his wrist the wood goes up in flames, and the beacon is finally lit.

All they can do now is wait.

* * *

It does not take long.

It does not take long at all.

Daylen supposes he shouldn't have been surprised. Of course the darkspawn would see it. Everyone in the valley could. Of course they would come to investigate.

But he is surprised. When he archers arrive, he is the first to fall. He doesn't even feel it when he hits the ground.

From where he falls, he sees Alistair and Avina, readying themselves. Too late. The arrows are already nocked.

With a loud cry, Avina throws herself in front of Alistair, shielding him with her small body. He sees her fall back into the blonde man's arms, blood staining her robes.

It is one of the bravest things Daylen thinks he has ever witnessed. But it is still not enough.

The last thing Daylen sees before everything goes dark is Alistair's back, riddled with arrows.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Waking Up.**


	6. Waking Up

**A thank you to Judy for reviewing.**

* * *

**Avina**

She wakes up.

She's immediately disoriented; one doesn't usually wake up from death, right?

But she's awake, at least as far as she can tell. She's in nothing but her smallclothes, her shoulder is sore and her head is aching from what must have been mana exhaustion from her fight in the tower...

As soon as this thought occurs to her she's sitting up in an instant, her eyes snapping wide open, and almost as instantly she regrets it. The light and change in position almost causes her to be sick. Nauseated, she falls back into the pillows, trying to keep what little there was in her stomach. After laying still for a few moments, her stomach calms, and she lets out a relieved breath. It could be so much worse, she supposes as she holds her arms up to examine them.

She has a new collection of bruises, ranging from the size of a blueberry to the size of a fist along with several minor scrapes and a burn on her forearm. When she glances down at her midsection, she finally notices the ugly scars that mar her pale skin. Each scar is a small, relatively straight line, thicker in the middle and thinner at the edges. Arrows.

Then it dawns on her. The tower. Alistair. Daylen. The soldier. The battle.

Was she the only one who survived?

A voice jerks her out of her thoughts. "Ah," a some-what familiar voice calls. "Your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased."

Avina glances over to the source of the voice and is met with the sight of the girl she met in the Wilds... Morrigan, she thinks.

"What happened to the darkspawn?" she blurts. She wonders why they left her alive, or if they did at all.

"You were injured," Morrigan explains. "Mother rescued you. Do you not remember?"

Avina closes her eyes and thinks hard. The beacon, she remembers Daylen lighting it. She remembers waiting. And then... Daylen fell. There were darkspawn... Alistair was standing beside her...

"She rescued me?" she whispers. This, she does not remember. "From the tower?"

"Mother managed to save you and your two friends, though 'twas a close call. What is important is that you all live." Morrigan pauses, as if deliberating. "The man who was to respond to your signal... quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend... He's not taking it well."

Hope swells in her chest. "My friend? You mean Alistair?"

Morrigan nods. "The suspicious, dim-witted one who was with you before, yes. He is outside by the fire, along with the other mage who was with you. Mother asked to see you when you awoke."

She briefly touches one of the ugly scars on her abdomen. "Were my injuries severe?"

"Yes," Morrigan admits. "But I expect you shall be fine. The darkspawn did nothing Mother could not heal."

"And..." she swallows. "Alistair? Is he alright?"

"He is," Morrigan confirms. "As you are. I suppose it would be unkind to say he is being childish."

_Yes, it is,_ she thinks, but bites back any harsh comment she may have made. "I will go, then."

"I will stay, and make something to eat."

* * *

The day is still young when she steps out into the early morning sunshine. Her staff is in her hand again, and she's wearing her robes, though they sport a few more holes than before, though Morrigan seems to have done her best to mend them in the time she had.

Morrigan's mother notices her first. "See?" she says. "Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man."

Alistair whirls around, slowly followed by Daylen. The dark circles under Alistair's eyes stand out to her as he takes a half step towards her. "You," he breathes, as if he can't believe it. Maybe he can't. "You're alive. I... thought you were dead for sure."

She smiles sadly, shaking her head. "I'm fine. I appreciate your concern."

Alistair wipes a hand over his eyes. "This doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."

Morrigan's mother raises an eyebrow. "Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad."

"I didn't mean..." Alistair starts. "But what do we call you? You never told us your name."

"Names are pretty, but useless," she says, her lips curling into a small smile. "The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do."

Daylen blanches, and Alistair's mouth drops open.

"_The_ Flemeth?" he asks. "From the legends? Daveth was right - you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

Avina blinks. Whatever this legend is, she has heard nothing of it.

"And what does that mean?" Flemeth snaps. "I know a bit of magic, and it has served you well, has it not?"

"We can't be safe here," Avina interjects. "Where are all the darkspawn?"

"The largest part of the horde has moved on. We are safe enough for now - old Flemeth knows a thing or two about hiding. The longer you are here, the less that is true, however. These things will notice you eventually."

"We need to stop the Blight," Daylen says, lifting his head.

"We need to bring Loghain to judgement!" Alistair argued. "Why would he do this?"

"Now _that_ is a good question," Flemeth says wryly. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"The archdemon," Alistair realizes.

"Then we need to find this archdemon," Avina declares.

"By ourselves?" Alistair says, incredulous. "No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at his back. Not to mention, I don't know _how_."

"How to kill the archdemon, or how to raise an army? It seems to me, those are two different questions, hmm? Have the Wardens no allies these days?"

"I... I don't know. Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called. And Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely."

"The Arl of Redcliffe?" Daylen asks.

"I suppose... Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all his men. And he was Cailan's uncle. I know him. He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet. Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

"Surely there are other allies we could call on."

"Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages, and other places! They're obligated to help us during a Blight!"

"I may be old," Flemeth states, "but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else... This sounds like an army to me."

Alistair turns to Avina. "So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and... build an army?"

"Why not?" She shrugs. "Isn't that what Grey Wardens do?"

"So you are set, then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?" Flemeth asks.

Avina nods. "Yes. Thank you for everything, Flemeth."

"No, no, thank _you_. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I. Now... before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you."

Morrigan comes up to stand beside her mother. "The stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Shall we have three guests for the eve or none?"

"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them."

"Such a shame - what?"

"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears." Flemeth laughs.

"Thank you, but if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us..." Avina trails off.

"Her magic will be useful. Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde."

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan demands.

"You have been itching to get out of the wilds for years," Flemeth points out. "Here is your chance. As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

Avina looks as if she wants to protest, but she only says, "Very well, then. We'll take her with us."

"Not to... look a gift horse in the mouth," says Alistair, "but won't this add to our problems? Out of the Wilds, she's an apostate."

"If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, perhaps I should have left you on that tower," Flemeth replies dryly.

"Point... taken."

"Mother... this is not how I wanted this. I am not even ready -" Morrigan pleads.

Flemeth stops her. "You must be ready. Alone, these three must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I."

"I... understand," Morrigan groans.

"And you, Wardens? Do you understand? I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you must succeed."

"I understand," Daylen vows.

"Allow me to get my things, if you please," Morrigan says irritably.

...

When she returns, she's carrying an ancient-looking iron staff and a small pack which looks to be stuffed with herbs. "I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far and you will find much you need there. Or if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours."

"No," Daylen tells her. "I prefer you speak your mind."

"Ha ha," Flemeth chuckles. "You will regret saying that."

"Dear, sweet Mother," Morrigan replies sarcastically. "You are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I will remember this moment."

"Well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself, or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards."

"I just," Alistair starts. "Do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?"

Daylen raises an eyebrow. "We need all the help we can get."

Alistair frowns. "I guess you're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them."

"I am so pleased to have your approval," Morrigan coos, mock-sweetly.

"I have a few questions," Daylen says.

"I may have answers. Ask."

"What skills do you have, exactly?" he asks.

"I know a few spells, though I am nowhere near as powerful as Mother. I have also studied history. And your Grey Warden treaties."

"Can you cook?" Alistair interrupts.

"I..." Morrigan scowls, crossing her arms. "can cook, yes."

"Never mind him," Daylen says dismissively. "You don't have to cook."

Alistair sighs dramatically. "You missed your chance. Now it's charred rabbit from here on out."

"Farewell, mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut."

"Bah. 'Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight."

"I... all I meant was..."

"Yes, I know. Do try to have fun, dear."

* * *

It's ironic, Avina thinks, that after Alistair's templar training he should accompany three apostates, them being his only surviving companions.

She wonders what he thinks about it. From what she's seen, she can already tell that he and Morrigan don't like each other. He silently glares as Morrigan points out deathroot and elfroot and other useful herbs, and she makes nasty comments about his intelligence.

The opposite seems to be true with Daylen. He listens intently as Morrigan gives him tips for avoiding darkspawn, and she compliments his abilities. Morrigan all but avoids Avina, but at this point Avina is glad. She's hardly in the mood to talk, especially to her.

They've traveled only a few miles, through the Wilds and onto the Imperial Highway when Alistair starts to tense, occasionally looking over his shoulder.

Then, a brown splotch rushes towards them, almost invisible with speed, right up to Avina. At first, she thinks it might be a small bear and draws her staff.

It stops before her, and she finally recognizes him.

She grins, sighing in relief as she looks at the mabari, bending over slightly to let him sniff at her hand. He doesn't seem interested, barking excitedly and jumping around. Then the dog whirls around, his ears flatten against his skull as a growl bursts from his chest.

Alistair gives a small cry of 'darkspawn!' And Morrigan laughs loudly, ready and eager for battle. The leader of the monsters looks directly at Avina, and as she watches, slowly drags his thumb across his throat.

Her eyes widen.

It's not easy, using mana now. She hasn't yet recovered from the attack at the tower, but Morrigan, Daylen, Alistair, and the dog and all incredible fighters. The dog is fast, all sharp teeth and hard muscle; his attacks distract and even kill the attacking darkspawn. With the dog on one side and Alistair on the other, the creatures have nowhere to run.

When it's over, the dog climbs over the corpses to stand before her, his fur stained with blood. He wags his tail and pants.

She can't help but smile. "They didn't hurt you, did they, boy?"

He barks once and wags his tail. She takes that as a no.

"I think he was out there looking for you," Alistair tells her. "He's... chosen you. Mabari are like that. They call it imprinting."

Morrigan scowls. "Does this mean we're going to have this mangy beast following us about now? Wonderful."

"He's not mangy," Alistair argues.

Avina almost doesn't hear them. Grinning, she ruffles the dog's ears as his tongue lolls out to the side.

Eyes shining, she turns to Alistair. "I'm going to name him Griffon," she announces.

Griffon barks happily, wagging his stubby tail.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Lothering.**


	7. Lothering

**Thank you to ****WiseGirl9859 for your review.**

* * *

**Daylen**

Strangely enough, after meeting Griffon the trip up to Lothering is rather uneventful. Until now.

Just outside of Lothering, there's a group of five well-armed men waiting for them.

"Wake up, gentlemen! More travelers to attend to," the man with dark hair and skin, the leader Daylen supposes, calls to his men, eyeing their group. "I'd guess that fellow is the leader." He gestures to Daylen, who crosses his arms.

"Err," the bald one, a rather stupid looking man, mumbles. "they don't look much like them others, you know. Uh... maybe we should just let these ones pass."

"Nonsense!" the leader booms. "Greetings, travelers!"

Beside Daylen, Alistair frowns in disgust. "Highwaymen. Preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose."

"They are fools to get in our way," Morrigan comments. "I say teach them a lesson."

"Now," the leader of the bandits chides. "Is that any way to greet someone? Tsk, tsk, tsk. A simple ten silvers and you're free to move on."

"We're not paying," Daylen insists, reaching for his staff. Avina does the same, and Griffon starts growling.

"Well, I can't say I'm pleased to hear that. We have rules, you know," the bandit says arrogantly.

The dumb one nods. "Right. We get to ransack your corpses then. Those are the rules."

Daylen's eyes narrow dangerously. "You really want to fight Grey Wardens?"

"Did he say he's a Grey Warden?" the dumb one stutters. "Them ones killed the king!"

"Traitors to Ferelden, I hear," the leader says. "Teyrn Loghain put quite the bounty on any who are found."

"But... aren't them Grey Wardens good? I mean, really good? Good enough to kill a king?"

"You have a point. Well, let's forget about the toll. We'll just leave you to your darkspawn-fighting, king-killing ways."

"You know, the Grey Wardens could use a donation," Daylen says, his voice dripping with sweetness.

"You don't say."

"They is really good, boss. Remember," the idiot cautions.

"Well, yes. Twenty silver? That's all we've... collected today." He hands Daylen a pouch of coins, which he immediately tosses to Alistair. Alistair fumbles to catch it, almost dropping it before stuffing it into his pack.

Daylen sighs, mock-sadly. "Not enough, I'm afraid." He pulls his staff off his back.

"And just when we had things settled..." The bandit motions to his friends.

It all happens very fast.

Before he can even blink, Daylen has cast a winter's grasp spell on the bandit leader just as Avina casts stonefist. Griffon leaps at the nearest bandit, catching the man's throat in his powerful jaws.

Half of them are dead by the time the leader thaws.

"All right!" he cries, sheathing his weapons and holding up his defenseless hands. "We surrender. We're just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all!"

"Get by?!" Avina snaps, her staff bumping the ground. "You're a criminal!"

The leader bows his head slightly. "Yes, I'm a criminal. I admit it. I apologize."

"Hand over everything you've stolen," Daylen commands.

"Yes!" the leader, accepts eagerly. "Yes, of course." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another coinpurse, significantly larger than the last one, and hands it to Daylen. "The coins we have collected are right here... just over a hundred silver. The rest is in the chests we brought! I swear!"

Daylen sneers. "Start running. And don't come back."

"Bless you!" the leader gushes. "The darkspawn can have this place!"

And with that, he and his men take off onto the Imperial Highway.

Avina sighs, but Daylen ignores her, heading over into the village.

They stop at a ledge which overlooks Lothering, the small muddy town between Ostagar and the rest of Ferelden.

"Well, there it is," Alistair states, gesturing before him. "Lothering. Pretty as a painting."

Hmm. Daylen's first impression is that it's a miserable shithole, filled to the brim with desperate people fleeing darkspawn. Not a good mix.

"Ah, so you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?" Morrigan taunts.

"Is my being upset so hard to understand?" Alistair snaps back. "Just what would you do if your mother died?"

"Before or after I stopped laughing?" Morrigan snarks.

"Right. Very creepy. Forget I asked."

"You have been very quiet, Alistair," Avina murmurs, looking up at him.

"Yes, I know. I was just... thinking," he tells her.

"No wonder it took so long, then," Morrigan mocks.

"Oh, I get it, this is the part where we're shocked to discover how you've never had a friend your entire life."

"I can be friendly when I desire to," the Witch spits. "Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so."

"_Anyway_," he grinds out. "I thought we should talk about where we intend to go first."

"You have some thoughts on that point, Alistair?" Daylen asks.

"This should be good."

"I think what Flemeth suggested is the best idea," Alistair states. "These treaties... have you looked at them?"

"No, not yet," Daylen admits.

"There are three main groups that we have treaties for: the Dalish, the dwarves of Orzammar, and the Circle of Magi. I also still think that Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We might even want to go to him first."

"I'm ready to get going," Daylen informs them, cracking his neck to the side.

"I can give you directions, if you like."

"No need," Daylen dismisses. "We have a map."

"Then you have a plan?"

"That I do," Daylen confirms, grinning as he strides down the steps, leaving the others to follow. Morrigan catches up first, choosing to walk beside him and Alistair, Avina and Griffon take up the rear.

It's astounding how many people are here, set up in makeshift tents and bedrolls in the mud. They must be truly desperate. He can hear a babe crying in the distance, as well as a few women screaming. Daylen sighs, sneering as he passes a templar.

"You there," the templar says. "If you're looking for safe shelter, I'll warn you. There's none to be found."

Daylen ignores him.

"So, uh," Alistair starts. "What was life like, in the tower I mean?"

Daylen knows this question is not directed at him. He continues walking towards the tavern in the distance.

Avina contemplates this. "Well, I assume it isn't much different than life outside."

At this, Daylen and Morrigan snort. He could almost swear he feels her gaze burning into the back of his head as she continues.

"I had friends. I went to lessons almost every day, I had chores, and I read in the library. You do those things too, right?"

"Well, yes, but, what about when you weren't doing any of those things? How did you pass the time?" Alistair asks.

"We practice blood magic while plotting the demise of the templars," Daylen adds.

Alistair's eyebrows pull together, and Avina groans and says, "Personally, I either played games with the other apprentices or sang."

Alistair looks like he wants to hear more, but he stops when they reach the bridge, seeing a small red-headed boy.

As Daylen approaches, he looks up and asks, "Have you seen my mother?"

Daylen sighs, scowling. "Beat it." Perhaps it is cruel, but he is no good with children, and he'll likely die in the next few days anyway.

Then he stumbles. Avina has pushed him out of the way, crouching before the boy. "You poor thing! Did you and your mother get separated?" she asks him quietly.

The boy seems a bit confused, but he answers her. "Some mean men with swords came, and mother told me to run to the village as fast as I could, so I did. She said she'd be right behind me, but I've been waiting and waiting and I can't see her!"

"What about your father? Do you know where he is?"

"He went with William to the neighbor's yesterday," he explained. "But he didn't come back."

Slowly, she stands, looking around her. Then she turns back to the child. "Come with me," she tells him. "I'll help you look for your mother."

The child shakes his head. "Mother said I wasn't to go with anyone. I'm supposed to wait for her here, in the village."

Avina purses her lips, then reaches into the pocket of her robes. Daylen can hear the clink of metal as she pulls out something shiny; a silver piece. She puts it in the boy's hands. "Here. Take this silver. Buy something to eat. If your mother doesn't come soon, go to the Chantry."

His eyes go wide as saucers. "A whole silver! Wow! Thank you!" He pauses, peeking at her pointed ears. "So... um... are you really an elf?"

She grins down at him. "Did the ears give me away?"

He giggles, nodding. "Father says elves aren't very nice, but you're a really nice lady. Kind of like mother. Thank you for helping me." And with silver in hand, he runs off.

* * *

**Alistair**

She's calming down the doomsayer when he sees it.

There's a dead-looking rose bush beside the steps of the Chantry, all brown and black. But pale pink stands out. A single rose stands proud in the center, alive against all odds, beautiful and pure.

He glances over his shoulder at Avina and Daylen, who are busy trying to shut up the screaming man. Alistair hesitates. He knows he should leave it alone, but... the Blight was coming. It was dead either way.

Before anyone else notices, his fingers close around the stem, and he picks the rose out of the bush, uncaring of thorns, and carefully puts it in the top of his pack so it won't be crushed.

He's saved it; at least for now.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Leliana, Sten, and the Perils of Lampposts. **


	8. Leliana, Sten, and Andrastian Dogs

**I lied XP The Perils of Lampposts isn't in this chapter. It would have been too long.**

**Thank you to Judy, tysiaathetops, and ImagineBagginsDragon (cool name btw) for reviewing.**

**Note: qunari refers to a singular qunari, and Qunari refers to the group.**

* * *

**Leliana**

From the moment she steps into the tavern, Leliana knows the elven woman is the one from her vision. The light in her eyes is unmistakable, as is the way she holds herself. She walks with purpose, with a sort of childlike wonder that instantly captures Leliana's attention. She's quite pretty too, with her golden-brown hair braided behind her head and her delicate features. She might even be Leliana's type, though she tucks that thought away for later, preferably when they're not under threat of Loghain's guard.

She notices as well the large blond man with grey iron armor who holds a templar shield in on hand and a steel sword in the other. He stands right up beside the elven woman, rigid and tense. On her other side is another man, almost as tall as the blond with dark hair, pale skin and cold, calculating dark eyes. He holds a finely crafted red iron staff with an orange stone nestled at the top between to dragons. A mage, just as the elf no doubt is.

Just behind them is another woman with dark hair and startling yellow eyes, dressed in a rather... provocative way. She holds an iron staff... yet another mage?

Only when the fighting starts does she notice the warhound that seemingly materializes from thin air, but he simply jumped out from behind the blond man and onto the dark-haired leader of Loghain's goons.

With a sweep of his staff, the dark-haired mage knocks the guards to the ground. The woman who stood behind him laughs and shouts, "You will learn to fear me!"

Her hands light up with flames.

Leliana is not without her own skills. It's almost sad how much she missed the rush of battle, the clash of steel. It's thrilling to jump back in, even though she hasn't done it in a while and she's _definitely_ not dressed for it.

When the blond man manages to knock the leader over with a bash of his shield, he cries out and holds up his hands as he scrambles to his feet. "Alright!" he shouts. "You've won! We surrender."

Leliana sheathes her dagger. "Good. They've learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting now."

The dark-haired mage steps forward. "They will not report to Loghain; not if I can help it."

"Please! Wait!" the guard begs.

"They have surrendered!" Leliana protests. "They were no match for you! Let them be!"

"They wanted us dead," he snarls.

"But they failed. And I do not wish death on anyone."

"They will receive no mercy from me," he replies coldly, and with a wave of his hand icicles emerge from his outstretched palm, skewering the guard through the chest as Leliana looks on in horror. The remaining two guards scream and scramble, but two quick spells from the two dark-haired mages end them.

"Daylen," the elven woman snaps.

The man, Daylen apparently, turns. "If they returned to Loghain, we would be bringing the wrath of the entire nation upon us. This way, we have much more time before Loghain discovers we survived."

She sighs, scowling, but does not say anything more.

Leliana steps forward. "I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help."

Daylen opens his mouth, but the elf cuts him off. "I appreciate what you tried to do."

"I know that you did what you had to," Leliana tells Daylen. "I do wish they had backed down, however. Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sister of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was."

"My name is Avina," the elf introduces herself. "This is Daylen, Alistair, Morrigan, and Griffon."

Leliana nods politely to the others. "They said you're Grey Wardens. You will be battling darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do?" she asks. "I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along."

Avina leans on her staff. "We will need help, that's true."

"That, and the Maker wants me to go with you," Leliana blurts, and immediatly berates herself for not thinking. Now they will no doubt think she's crazy.

Avina's forehead crumples with confusion. "Can you... elaborate?"

Leliana takes a breath, looking at her shoes. "I-I know that sounds... absolutely insane - but it's true! I had a dream... a vision!"

"More crazy?" Alistair comments. "I thought we were all full up."

"Just..." Leliana starts desperately. "Look at the people here. They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos... will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. What you do, what you are meant to do, is the Maker's work. Let me help."

Before anyone else in the group can say anything, Avina nods. "Very well. We will not turn help away when it is offered."

"Wait," Daylen protests. Avina rounds on him.

"I am a Grey Warden, and part of this group. I am entitled to making decisions too," she snaps. Daylen stares at her in awe for a moment, then scowls and crosses his arms.

"Fine," he says flatly.

"Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than mother thought," Morrigan says casually. Leliana isn't quite sure who she's talking to.

Leliana smiles brightly. "Thank you! I appreciate being given this chance. I will not let you down."

* * *

**Sten**

"You aren't one of my captors," he accuses the elven saarebas. At his deep, gravely tone she looks up at him curiously, her silvery blue eyes filled with awe.

"You are a prisoner?" she asks. "Who put you here?"

Sten narrows his violet eyes. "I am in a cage, am I not? I've been placed here by the Chantry."

"The revered mother said he slaughtered an entire family," comes a thick accent. Though Sten isn't quite used to this foreign tongue, he can tell the woman speaking is also a foreigner. "Even the children."

The dark-haired human male looks impressed, as does the female dark-haired saarebas. The orange haired female, the one with the accent, looks frightened, and the ingnorant-looking blond stands neutrally beside her.

"It is as she says," he tells their group solemnly. "I am Sten of the Beresaad - the vanguard - of the Qunari peoples."

"I am Daylen," the dark-haired male says. "We are pleased to meet you."

Sten sighs. "You mock me. Or perhaps you show manners I have not come to expect from your kind."

"This," says the scantily clad saarebas. "Is a proud and powerful creature, left to be killed by the darkspawn. If you cannot find a use for him, I'd suggest releasing him for mercy's sake alone."

"Mercy?" the blond man says dubiously. "I wouldn't have expected that from you."

The saarebas sneers. "I'd also suggest Alistair take his place in the cage."

The man, Alistair apparently, snorts. "Yes, that's what I would have expected." He scratches the back of his neck. "So, uhm, what exactly are you doing in there?"

"Sitting."

"Why?"

"I have been convicted of murder," Sten says bluntly.

That seems to shut the man up.

"How long have you been here?" the elven woman asks. If Sten is not mistaken, she is... concerned for him.

"Twenty days, now. I shouldn't last much longer. Another week, at most."

She gapes in horror.

The man called Daylen steps forward. "Aren't you interested in seeking atonement?"

"Death will be my atonement."

"There are other ways to redeem yourself," Daylen mutters.

Sten lifts an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"You could help us defend Ferelden against the Blight," Daylen states.

"The Blight?" Sten ponders. That must mean one of them is a Grey Warden. "Are you a Grey Warden then?"

"Yes," Daylen admits.

"My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens' strength and skill," Sten explains. "Though I suppose not every legend is true."

"To be left here to starve, or to be taken by the darkspawn..." the accented woman trails off. "No one deserves that, not even a murderer."

* * *

**Alistair**

Leliana joining the group is unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome by Alistair. So far, she seems like a kind, faithful woman with a mysterious past and incredible skill with a bow.

Sten, however, only makes Alistair uneasy. He was sitting in that cage, without food and water for Maker knows how long, and yet as soon as they let him out he's ready for battle. More than a little unnerving too that he slaughtered a family and admits to it.

Avina stands by her decision to bring Leliana along, and Daylen stands by his decision to recruit Sten. The tension between the two leaders is palpable even as they set up camp for the night.

Avina takes the first watch, and before Alistair can say anything Leliana volunteers as well. He isn't happy about this, and he doesn't know why.

He can hear them chattering quietly as he falls asleep.

When he wakes, it's he and Daylen's turn to keep watch as Avina and Leliana go to sleep. Unlike Alistair and Morrigan, Avina doesn't have a tent. When he shoots her sleeping form a questioning glance, Daylen sighs and explains.

"She'd never been outside before. And the stars, they're one of the most beautiful things about the outside world."

Instead of actually watching the trail in or sharpening his blade or even conversing with Daylen or Bodahn, Alistair spends most of his watch watching _her._

So when her features crumple and her lips part in a silent scream, he sees, and he knows she's having a nightmare.

She rolls around, thrashing slightly, before sitting up with a gasp. She's sweaty, her hair partly undone and hanging in wispy strands over her forehead. She clutches at her heart, slowly looking up to meet Alistair's gaze.

"Bad dreams, huh?"

She sighs, her hair flying up and then slowly back into her face. It makes him want to laugh, but it also makes him want to tuck it behind those adorable ears of hers. "Must've been something I ate," she breathes.

He chuckles. "Drank, more like. As in the tainted blood, remember? You see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. That's what your dream was. Hearing them. The archdemon, it... 'talks' to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That's why we know this is really a Blight."

She places her hands behind her to hold her up. "The archdemon? Is that the dragon?"

"I don't know if it's really a dragon," he admits. "But it sure looks like one. But yes, that's the archdemon. It takes a bit, but eventually you can block the dreams out. Some of the older Grey Wardens say they can understand the archdemon a bit, but I sure can't.

"Anyhow," he continues. "When I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should tell you. It was scary at first for me, too."

She smiles then, and Alistair can almost swear he feels the warmth of it on his face. Or maybe that's just a blush. "Thank you, Alistair," she tells him earnestly. "I appreciate it."

He grins back at her. "That's what I'm here for. To deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners."

She laughs, and his grin widens as he stands. "Anyhow, you're up right? Let's pull up camp and get a move on." He offers her his hand, and she takes it without hesitation. He pulls her to her feet just as Leliana pokes her head out of her tent, and he reluctantly lets her go.

* * *

The road to Redcliffe is, in a word, dull. True, it's not as far as Lothering was from Ostagar, but unfortunately with the new additions everyone seems afraid to speak. No one says a word as they trudge down the path.

At least, until Avina turns to him.

"So, what does a templar do?" she asks suddenly. For a moment, he blanches and glances around. But Daylen and Morrigan at the front either don't hear them or don't care, Leliana is quietly singing, and Sten, who brings up the rear, does not seem interested in anything at all.

"Well," he begins carefully. "Essentially, they're trained to fight. The Chantry would tell you the templars exist to defend, but don't let them fool you. They're an army. The other main purpose for a templar is, of course, to hunt mages. To that end, we train in talents that drain mana and disrupt spells."

Instead of horrified, Avina looks intrigued. "So templars use magic themselves?"

He purses his lips. "You could call it that, sure. The Chantry doesn't look on it the same way, however, since really our talent only work on mages. Against a regular person, I'm just a... guy in a metal suit."

She laughs for a moment, then looks at him seriously. "Have you hunted many mages?"

"No," he says truthfully. "I never actually became a full templar. Duncan recruited me before I took my vows. I was only present during one Harrowing. That was all I needed, too. I don't know how anyone could get through that. The girl they tested... she had a demon put inside her, to see if she could resist. And she couldn't. We had to... end it quickly. I have to say I didn't have much interest in becoming a templar after that."

She tilts her head to the side. "It sounds like the templars could run the Chantry."

He shakes his head slightly. "You'd think that, but it's not so. The Chantry keeps a close reign on it's templars. We are given lyrium to help develop our magical talents, you see... which means we become addicted. And since the Chantry controls the lyrium trade with the dwarves... well, I'm sure you can put two and two together."

Strangely, this is the moment she looks horrified. She gapes at him, her eyebrows drawn down. "That's horrible! I can't believe they would do that!"

His lips tug upward at the corner. "Well, they do it. And they feel perfectly justified. You don't need lyrium in order to learn the templar talents. Lyrium just makes templars talents more effective. Or so I was told. Maybe it doesn't even do that. The Chantry doesn't usually let their templars get away, either, so they can spread their secrets. I'm a bit of an exception. Lucky me."

And he expects this to be the end of that conversation, but she doesn't turn away.

"So what about this Arl Eamon?" She presses. "He raised you?"

"Did I say that?" he wonders. "I meant that dogs raised me. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact.

"Really?" she challenges playfully. "That must have been hard for them."

"Well, they were flying dogs, you see," he continues. "Surprisingly strict parents too, and devout Andrastians to boot."

She snorts, trying to contain herself. "Uh-huh, raised by devout, flying dogs. I see."

He pretends to think about it. "Or did I dream all of that? Funny the dreams you'll have when you sleep on the cold, hard ground, isn't it?" He chuckles to himself. "Are... you having strange dreams?"

She smiles wryly. "Only ones where we're making mad love in your tent."

He stumbles in his tracks, his face flooding with warmth all the way to his ears. It takes him a moment to remember how to walk. "I..." he gulps. "Oh... I think I... completely lost my train of thought... Oh, there it is. Let's see. How do I explain this? I'm a bastard." He can tell she's about to say something, so he cuts her off. "And before you make any smart comments I mean the fatherless kind. My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn't my father, but he took me in anyhow and put a roof over my head. He was good to me, and he didn't have to be. I respect the man and don't blame him any more for sending me off to the Chantry once I was old enough."

She nods in understanding. "But you did then, I take it?"

He sighs. "I was young and resentful and not very pious. Of course I blamed him. I remember screaming at him like a little child... well, I was a child, so I doubt he was surprised." That was far from his proudest moment. "Arl Eamon eventually married a young woman from Orlais, which caused all sorts of problems between him and the king because it was so soon after the war. But he loved her. Anyhow, the new arlessa resented the rumors that pegged me as his bastard. They weren't true, but of course they existed. The arl didn't care, but she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well. The arlessa made sure the castle wasn't a home to me by that point. She despised me."

Avina shakes her head sadly. "What an awful thing to do to a child."

"Maybe," he muses. "She felt threatened by my presence, I can see that now. I can't say I blame her. She wondered if the rumors were true herself, I bet. I remember I had an amulet... with Andraste's holy symbol on it. The only thing I had of my mother's. I was so furious at being sent away I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered." He wipes a hand over his eyes. "Stupid, stupid thing to do. The arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was, but I was stubborn. I hated it there and blamed him for everything... and eventually he just stopped coming."

She places a hand on his arm. "You were young."

"And raised by dogs," he says. "Or I may as well have been, the way I acted. But maybe all young bastards act like that. I dunno. All I know is that the arl is a good man and well-loved by the people. He was also King Cailan's uncle, so he has a personal motivation to see Loghain pay for what he did. Anyway..." he pauses. "That's all there is to the story."

* * *

About three quarters of the way there, they stop at a stream to drink and wash the sweat and blood from their bodies. They take turns, two at a time, and somehow Alistair ends up with Avina.

He wades into the stream until it reaches his knees and takes off the top part of his armor while Avina fills their canteens. He doesn't notice her watching him until she giggles as he bends over to wash the blood from it.

He turns. "What?"

Instead of answering him, she leans forward, gazing up at him. He can feel the tips of his ears heating up as her gaze wanders over his torso...

_Splash!_

He gapes at her as the cold water drips down the fabric of his undershirt, soaking the material and chilling his skin. Avina howls with laughter, shaking the moisture off her hand. Alistair glares daggers at her.

"Why _you_..." he trails off, mock-furiously. Then he leans down, dipping his own hand in the water, and throws it at her.

The water hits her right on the front, soaking half of her robes. She squeals and falls back on her butt.

And from there it escalates until she's using magic to pelt him with water and he grabs her up, bridal style, and dumps her into the water. She screeches and laughs, gasping for breath, and Alistair has tears forming in his eyes from laughing so hard.

She throws up her hands. "I give! I give!"

And the two collapse on the shore, breathing heavily.

He turns to look at her. "I'm never washing with you present again," he fake-threatens.

She chuckles, looking back. And for a moment, neither of them say a word.

Then, quietly, she says, "Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?"

"Not unless they were asking me for a favor," he says wryly. "Well, there was that one time in Denerim, but those women were... not like you. Why?" he asks. "Is this your way of telling me _you_ think I'm handsome?"

Her cheeks tinge ever so slightly pink. "You _know_ you're handsome, Alistair."

He grins. "Maybe. It doesn't hurt to have a pretty girl say that, though. Beats being run through with a sword any day."

She laughs again, and he thinks his heart stutters.

"So," he says. "Is this the part where I get to say the same?"

"Not unless you don't think so."

"Oh, I think so," he assures her. "I'll just spring it on you when it's a surprise!"

He hears a gagging sound and turns to see Morrigan and Daylen, not so patiently waiting their turn. Daylen is smirking, but Morrigan looks like she's smelling something awful.

As they grab their things, Alistair feels like he's walking on air.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: The Bastard Prince**


	9. The Bastard Prince

**Yes, I changed the color of the rose to match the picture in the inventory.**

* * *

**Alistair**

When he was in the Chantry, Alistair hardly ever saw a girl his age, let alone talked to one. For years he was lectured in the ways of a gentleman, that relationships, especially out of wedlock, were forbidden. At the time, Alistair didn't think about it too much. In his mind, he was going to be a templar, be miserable and addicted to lyrium for the rest of his life, and then die alone. He was never too worried about marriage or children, especially since... well.

The thing is, women don't scare Alistair, but for some reason Avina terrifies him. The moment she looks his way his breath freezes in his lungs and he can't think. He thinks maybe it's because she's such a lovely woman with a pure heart like he's never seen before, but whatever the reason he can't stop thinking about her.

He has no idea what he's doing, either. He's never been in any kind of relationship; the Chantry forbids it, anyway. He has no idea what to say, how to act around her... what if she thinks he's an idiot?

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn't notice the stone in his path until he trips over it, nearly falling on his face. He glances up quickly to see if anyone saw, and to his horror Avina is looking back at him with a soft look in her silvery blue eyes. She smiles over at him, giggling quietly, and Alistair blushes and ducks his head.

Well, if she thinks he's an idiot, she's not wrong, he thinks, embarrassed.

The point is, he tells himself, that he needs help.

Usually, whenever he was curious about something he would ask Duncan about it. Now, that's no longer an option, he remembers sadly.

Daylen doesn't seem to like Avina or Alistair enough to lend him reliable advice, Sten is simply terrifying, and he'd rather stab out his eyes with a rusty fork than go to Morrigan for help.

He briefly considers asking Griffon for help when it finally hits him.

He turns to Leliana. "So, you're female, Leliana," he starts. "right?"

Her lips quirk upwards. "I am? That's news. When did that happen?"

Alistair flushes. "I just... wanted some advice." He looks up at Avina, who's near the front of the group, speaking with Daylen. Out of earshot. "What should I do if... If I think a woman is special and..."

"You want to woo her?" Leliana jumps in. "Here's a good tip: you shouldn't question her about her female-ness."

"Alright, yes," he agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. "Good point."

"Why do you ask?" she asks. "Are you afraid things will not proceed naturally?"

"Why would they? Especially when I do things like ask women if they're female."

Leliana smiles and nudges him with her shoulder. "It adds to your charm, Alistair. You're a little... awkward. It is endearing."

Alistair's brow furrows. "So I should be awkward? Didn't you just say not to do things like that?"

"Just be yourself," she amends. "You do know how to do that, don't you?"

"Alright," he gives up. "Forget I asked."

Leliana's 'advice' doesn't exactly make him feel better. In fact, he thinks he's even more nervous now, if that's possible. He has no idea how to talk to Avina still, and he has yet to tell her, and everyone else really, _who_ he really is.

And it terrifies him.

But it has to be said sooner or later, so he resolves to tell Avina and Daylen when they reach Redcliffe.

* * *

**Avina**

She first thinks something's wrong when Alistair pulls Daylen aside, where no one can see them. She thinks perhaps something terrible has happened, that maybe he's warning Daylen about something.

She hears nothing for several moments, and then Alistair and Daylen come back. Alistair looks somewhat relieved, and Daylen looks almost... pleased.

But before they continue on the path, Alistair tentatively touches her shoulder, pulling her aside as he did with Daylen. "Look," he murmurs. "Can we talk for a moment? I need to tell you something. I, uh, probably should have told you earlier."

"What's on your mind?" she asks worriedly. She has no idea what to expect at this point.

"I told you before how Arl Eamon raised me, right? That my mother was a serving girl at the castle and he took me in?" At her nod, he continues. "The reason he did that was because... well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my... half-brother, I suppose."

She gapes at him for several moments, as if what he's said in incomprehensible, or perhaps this is another joke of his. She doesn't know what to say.

But he's looking at her hopefully, with the slightest amount of fear in his eyes.

She closes her mouth slowly, and grins up at him. "So, you're not only a bastard but you're a royal bastard?"

It seems he was not expecting this as he snorts. "Ha! Yes, I guess it does at that. I should use that line more often." He runs a hand through his hair, and suddenly it's not so funny anymore. He clears his throat. "I... I would have told you, but... it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule and so they kept me secret. I've never talked about it to anyone. Everyone who knew either resented me for it or they coddled me... even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn't want you to know as long as possible. I'm sorry."

She bites her lip. She understands, or at least she thinks she does. Here, outside the Circle, she sometimes wants to hide the fact that she's a mage, fearing how others may treat her. Finally, she says, "I think I understand."

He lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I'm glad. It's not like I got special treatment for it, anyhow. At any rate, that's it. That's what I had to tell you. I thought you should know about it."

"Are you sure?" she presses playfully. "You're not hiding anything else?"

He gives her a lopsided grin. "Besides my unholy love of fine cheeses and a minor obsession with my hair, no. That's it. Just the prince thing."

She puts on what she hopes is a seductive face and says, "You're a prince. Somehow I find that very... thrilling."

It apparently works. "Oh," he breathes, "Did I just find the one damn decent thing about my birthright? I think I did. I have no illusions about my status, however. It's always been made very clear that I'm a commoner and now a Grey Warden and in no way in line for the throne. And that's fine by me. No, if there's an heir to be found, it's Arl Eamon himself. He's not of royal blood but he is Cailan's uncle, and more importantly, very popular with the people." He lets out a breath. "So there you have it. Now can we move on, and I'll just pretend I'm some... nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens."

She frowns. "That's not really what you think, is it?"

He purses his lips for a moment, then shakes his head. "Well, no," he admits. "What I really think is that I was lucky enough to survive with you."

He turns before he can see her expression change to one of adoration.

* * *

**Daylen**

He sighs.

Nothing is ever simple, is it? Nothing can ever be easy.

Teagan is a good man, sturdy and strong, a good leader. If Eamon is half as good as his brother, they may have a chance, Daylen muses to himself. That is, if he's still alive.

Daylen agrees to help them because if he doesn't, he knows they will not survive. Even if it was just him and Avina helping, it would be a massive boost for them. Adding three mages, a qunari, a rogue, a warhound, and an ex-templar is almost definitely going to ensure they survive.

Morrigan is less than pleased, but she too knows they have no choice.

They cannot hope to face the Blight without Arl Eamon's support.

Avina stays behind at the Chantry to do what she can for the wounded, while the others head outside to speak to Murdock.

Murdock is a big man with a ruddy mustache and thick eyebrows which furrow when he sees the well armed group approaching.

"So you're the Grey Wardens, are you?"

Daylen nods. "I'm not here to chat. Let's get down to business; what do you need?"

Murdock sighs, running a hand through his hair. "We need what little armor and weapons we have repaired, and quickly, or half of us will be fighting without either. Owen's the only blacksmith who can do it, but the stubborn fool refuses to even talk. If we're to be ready for tonight, we'll need that crotchety bastard's help."

Daylen frowns. How is one supposed to get a crotchety bastard's help? This is definitely not his strong point. Maybe he should go back to the Chantry for Avina... "Why won't he speak to you?"

"His daughter, Valena, is one of the arlessa's maids. So he hasn't heard from her since this whole business started," he explains. "He demanded we attack the castle, break down the gate, and force our way in. I said it was impossible, but he wouldn't listen. He's locked himself in the smithy now. I can't force him to do the repairs... he says he'd rather die first."

Daylen curses under his breath. "No one else can do the repairs?"

Murdock shakes his head. "Not by nightfall, and not well enough that I'd be happy to test it in combat. If there were others, don't you think I'd ask them?"

"I'll see what I can do, then."

"I'd appreciate it. If he doesn't help, he'll die like the rest of us. What good will that do anyone then?"

* * *

Avina is finished healing when Daylen comes back and asks for help, so she agrees.

No one's gotten through the smithy's front door yet, but she gets him to unlock it in less than ten seconds.

And Daylen is suddenly very glad she survived everything so far.

The stench of alcohol hits them in the face as soon as the door opens. Well, Daylen thinks. They know what he was doing in here all that time.

At first, the old drunk treats them coldly, but Avina gets him to calm down and tell her what's wrong, the same thing Murdock told Daylen. His daughter's in the castle, he hasn't heard from her, she's trapped and no one's been able to reach her.

Avina's only choice is to promise to rescue her; and she seems completely sincere. If she's already dead, this promise is no good, so Daylen wouldn't have made it himself... but if it got him to make the repairs, so be it.

But when they're outside again, Avina demands they search the village for a small boy named Bevin who apparently ran from his sister. Daylen almost argues that they don't have the time, but it's not true. It's not yet noon, and the monsters attack only at nightfall.

One of the houses' doors is locked.

"Bevin might be inside," Avina persuades. "We can't just leave."

Daylen shrugs. "I'm not opposed to a little breaking and entering. Does anyone know how to pick a lock?"

Leliana volunteers, and soon the door swings open.

Revealing a dwarf and two thugs.

As it turns out, the dwarf is a man named Dwyn, a veteran soldier. He isn't very happy that someone, or really that many someones, broke into his house. Daylen steps forward and sneers at his cowardice, and to his surprise Avina remains silent, allowing his attack. Dwyn doesn't seem fazed, however, and only by promising to put a good word in with the mayor or Bann Teagan does he get Dwyn to agree to defend the village.

Now, all that's left is to prepare the knights and find the kid.

* * *

When they find Bevin, Daylen swears he'll never question Avina's decisions again.

Who knew the boy would have a sword - a _viridium_ sword, of all things - in his possession?

When the boy told them about it, Daylen thought it could have been anything from wood to grey iron, but he was not expecting this.

The blade is obviously quite old; but since it belonged to the boy's grandfather, it isn't a surprise. The metal is some of the finest any of them have seen, and of elven make to boot. They decide to give the blade to Alistair, and he immediately gapes at it, brushing his fingers over the smooth metal. As a mage, Daylen doesn't know his swords very well, but this one is_ fine_.

Yes. This will help things greatly.

And the knights, as it turns out, need nothing at all save for a lie.

A lie Daylen is more than willing to provide.

With their holy amulets, the knights claim to be as ready as they could possibly be, shielded by the Maker and whatnot. Only Leliana protests when they give them the amulets, but she is quickly silenced by Avina.

Like Daylen, she knows that belief is a strong thing.

And all in all, Daylen believes they've done everything they possibly could have for the village.

It's time to wait for nightfall.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Avina's Past**


	10. Avina's Past

**I'm not going to go into detail about some of the parts of the game. If you haven't played, you'll probably get a bit confused.**

* * *

**Daylen**

Daylen is so, so tired, low on mana and energy when the sun finally rises. And when he looks around, they all remain standing.

Avina is battered and bruised, exhausted from healing and fighting, but Daylen knows she'll be fine after some lyrium and a rest. Griffon was limping before the sun came up, but now he jumps about excitedly, completely fine. He supposes Avina is to blame for his quick recovery. Sten seems to be completely unscathed, not a scratch on him. Morrigan received a tear in her skirt, but that's the extent of damage done to her. Leliana and Alistair both have dents in their armor, shallow cuts on their arms and faces.

Daylen himself received no injury. As a battlemage, he's accustomed to running about while fighting, avoiding hits, and fighting at close range.

The militia got the worst of it, but it seems they arrived just in time. Avina's healing has proven invaluable; he knows that without her they would not have been nearly as fortunate.

Teagan greets them at the Chantry, amazed at the entire village's survival. One by one, the women and children inside step out into the sunshine, embracing their husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons.

He notices little Bevin in the crowd just as the boy notices him, and he waves excitedly at the mage with a wide smile. Daylen half smiles back, raising his hand in greeting.

Teagan quiets them. "Dawn arrives, my friends," he calls, "and all of us remain! We are victorious!"

The crowd cheers.

After they are done being congratulated, Daylen lays a hand on Avina's shoulder. "Impressive work," he compliments, "we couldn't have done it without you."

She looks up at him in surprise. "Oh... thank you, Daylen. I'm... glad you're with us."

It is the first friendly conversation they have ever had.

* * *

**Jowan**

How long has it been since Jowan has slept? How long has it been since he's eaten? How long has it been since he saw another living person?

He can't remember anymore.

His time is measured in breaths, in water drops from the ceiling, in memories.

Sometimes he forgets he's in a dungeon in Redcliffe, and he thinks that he's still an apprentice waiting to take his harrowing, that he can't wait to ask Avina about her classes, that he can't wait to see Lily again.

But then he opens his eyes, and he's slowly starving, bleeding and alone is this cold dungeon and he doesn't know if anyone is still alive.

Sometimes, he prays.

But today is not one of those days. Today, the monsters have reached the basement.

Today, his luck has run out.

He tries to stay out of sight, barely breathing as he hopes they won't notice him, but when they pass his cell they snarl and reach as far as they can through the bars. Jowan screams as they claw at him. "Get away from me! Get away!"

As if they understand him, as if they care, they turn their heads and run towards the dead end of the dungeon.

And then he hears it.

The crunch of stone, the rush of ice, the clang of steel. Someone, a woman, laughs.

Oh, Maker. He hopes the arlessa hasn't sent back her guards to finish him off. But Lady Isolde doesn't have mages; what's going on out there?

Then all goes quiet. Jowan gulps, and calls out to whoever might be there, "Hello? Is there anyone alive out there? Who is it?"

Footsteps approach his cell. Then, "Jowan?"

He'd recognize that voice anywhere. "_Avina_?"

Her robes are torn and her braids are messy, but she's the same girl he left behind at the tower not so long ago.

"Jowan," she cries, and reaches through the bars to pull him into a hug. He doesn't hesitate to hug her back, squeezing her as tightly as the metal cage will allow. Others appear behind her, but he pays them little mind.

"Maker's breath," he gasps into her hair, pulling back to look at her. "How did you get here? I thought I'd never see you again."

"Are you the mage the arlessa mentioned?" she asks, looking him over. Only then does she seem to notice the blood splatters on his robes, the paleness of his skin, the dark circles under his eyes. "Jowan, what have they done to you?"

"What they do to all traitors and would-be assassins." He runs a hand through his messy hair. "I poisoned Arl Eamon. For all I know, he's already dead."

She looks surprised, and slightly hurt. "He's not dead, at least not yet."

"He's not?" Jowan sighs in relief. "That's... it's good to know. I know how it seems. Poisoning the arl was... a terrible thing. But I'm not behind everything else happening here, I swear!"

Avina bites her lip, and the tall blonde man in the armor behind her crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Before I say anything else, I need to ask you a question," Jowan admits. "You can do whatever you feel you need to afterward, but I need to know... What became of Lily? They didn't hurt her, did they? The thought that she might have paid for my crimes..."

Avina shakes her head sadly. "I'm sorry, Jowan. They sent her away, I don't know where."

Jowan's face falls. "Oh, my poor Lily. She must hate me now, if she even lives. What have I done?"

Avina squeezes his shoulder. "You couldn't have known the templars would be waiting for us."

"But it was my fault they were even after us in the first place. She could be dead, you could have been killed," Jowan argues. Then he sighs. "So, here we are again, the two of us. What happens now?"

"I need to know why you poisoned the arl, Jowan."

"I was instructed to by Teyrn Loghain," he explains. "I was told that Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden, that if I dealt with him Loghain would settle matters with the Circle. All I wanted was to be able to return. But he abandoned me here, didn't he? Everything's fallen apart. I never thought it would end like this!" He covers his face with his hands. "Maker, I've made so many mistakes! I've disappointed so many people... I wish I could go back and fix it. I just want to make everything right again."

Avina smiles warmly at him. "That's good to hear you say."

"Well... it's a start, maybe. I don't know if anything I do could ever make it right."

Why is it that whenever he does anything wrong, she will forgive him? He will never be worthy of her friendship.

"But why would the arl allow an apostate into the castle?" Avina asks.

"It wasn't the arl who invited me into the castle, it was the arlessa. Their son, Connor, had started to show... signs. Lady Isolde was terrified the Circle of Magi would take him away for training."

The blonde man behind Avina gapes. "Connor? A mage? I can't believe it!"

"She sought an apostate," Jowan continues. "A mage outside the Circle, to teach her son in secret so he could learn to hide his talent. Her husband had no idea."

Avina considers this. "Could Connor be responsible for what has happened?"

Jowan nods. "It's a possibility. Connor has little knowledge of magic, but he may have done something to tear open the Veil. With the Veil to the Fade torn, spirits and demons could infiltrate the castle. Powerful ones could kill and create those walking corpses."

"But why would Isolde be frightened of her son being a mage?"

"He'd be taken away. Forever. A mage cannot inherit a title, even the son of a powerful arl." He pauses. "She's also... a pious woman. Her son having magic was... humiliating."

Avina nods. "I see. I think I understand."

"The arl's a decent man," Jowan says sadly. "I wondered how he could possibly be the threat Loghain said he was, but I did it anyway. I'm such a fool."

"Everyone makes mistakes," Avina tries to soothe.

Jowan shakes his head. "Mistakes like mine? I've just messed everything up. My entire life. I've made such bad decisions. I'm sick of running away and hiding from what I've done. I'm going to try to fix it, any way I can."

A woman he can't see speaks up. "I say this boy could still be of use to us. But if not, then let him go. Why keep him prisoner here?"

"Hey, hey!" the blonde man interjects. "Let's not forget he's a blood mage! You can't just... set a blood mage free!"

"Better to slay him?" the woman replies. "Better to punish him for his choices? Is this Alistair who speaks or the templar?"

Jowan's brow furrows. The man named Alistair is a templar? Why is he traveling with Avina, he wonders.

"I'd say it's common sense," Alistair snaps back. "We don't even know the whole story yet."

Another woman standing beside the blonde man with short red hair turns to the templar. "He wishes to redeem himself," she says with an Orlesian accent. "Doesn't everyone deserve that chance?"

"Like yourself, you mean?" the other woman snarks.

The Orlesian lifts her chin. "Everyone deserves a chance to redeem themselves in the Maker's eyes; this man no less than any."

Alistair sighs. "He's your friend," he tells Avina. "you know him best."

Avina bites her lips, her silvery blue eyes fill with indecision.

* * *

**Avina**

Jowan was always her best friend, from the time she arrived at the Circle. She was a young girl then, only four or five while Jowan was seven or eight. She always thought of him like an older brother, someone she could tell any of her secrets to and not be judged because he loved her as much as she loved him.

They did everything together. They ate together, played together, went to classes together, and sometimes when Avina was scared, she would crawl into Jowan's bed and sleep there until dawn. He was the only family she had left. He was her only friend.

But as they grew older, and Avina's skills began to surpass Jowan's, he grew afraid. He thought if a girl who arrived after him was better at magic than him, then he must be doing something wrong.

Avina knew about the blood magic. Of course she did; she caught him practicing it late one night in the library, reading from the books that the templars told them not to touch. Was she angry? No, she knew he meant no harm. Was she scared? Oh yes. Very much so. The consequences for using blood magic were more severe than almost any other crime in the Circle.

He begged her not to tell anyone, and she promised she wouldn't breath a word. She meant it.

And yet...

Avina was always such a curious girl. She wanted to know who was gossiping about what, how to cast the most difficult spells, any secrets she could get her hands on. And now Jowan had a secret, a secret not even she knew.

Was it really as bad as they say, she wondered. Jowan wasn't immediately possessed by a demon that destroyed the whole tower, so obviously some of the things they said about blood magic were exaggerated.

She always knew there was a possibility that they were lying, only trying to keep the mages from becoming too powerful for the templars to control.

Jowan only made her more certain.

And because Avina was so insatiably curious, she asked Jowan to do something for her, starting that very night.

She asked him to teach her.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: The Demon of Desire**


	11. The Demon of Desire

**Sorry for the wait, guys. Thank you to everyone who's favorited and followed this story. It means so much to me!**

**ImagineBagginsDragon, your review made me laugh. But sadly, there isn't any Avina/Alistair romance in this chapter. This one is too dark, methinks. Perhaps in the next chapter :P**

**Now, without further ado, here is chapter 11.**

* * *

**Valena**

She thinks it's been two days since she shut herself in here. Not even a few hours after she had, the screaming stopped, only to be replaced with something much worse.

Silence.

When they were screaming, at least she knew some of the others were alive. Now, she has no idea.

Perhaps the arl is dead now. Maybe the arlessa is dead. Maybe all the staff, the guards, and even young master Connor are dead. Maybe all the others are dead - Valena can't be sure - but she knows even if they are, she is not alone.

She hid here when those... creatures came pouring out of the main hall, ripping apart anything that moved.

If she was braver or had combat training, perhaps she could have tried to fight her way out. But as it is, she doesn't, so she can't.

If she wasn't terrified, she thinks she would be very hungry. The terror keeps her from feeling it, but her stomach has been making noises. She only hopes her stomach doesn't rumble loud enough for the monsters to hear...

There's a crash out in the hall and she flinches, cowering into the crates. She knows she can't hide forever, that the monsters will come for her eventually if she doesn't starve to death, but all she can think is _not yet, please don't let them find me. Not yet._

One of the monsters screeches in fury, and she thinks they must have found something. The hounds are relatively nearby, she supposes...

Then a blast shakes the wall.

Valena barely keeps herself from screaming. What _was_ that? Some sort of explosion?

The creatures shriek, and Valena covers her ears, and prays they will go away. She prays they will leave her alone.

She doesn't know how much time passes with her hands clasped over her ears, but after a while she lowers them, listening. She hears nothing. No growling, no dead feet scraping across the floor, no sound indicating the monsters are nearby. Perhaps they left, she thinks with relief.

Then the door swings open.

A scream is torn from her throat and she throws up her arms to protect her face.

But they aren't monsters. They're people, humans and and elf and even a mabari hound.

"Please don't hurt me," she begs as she lowers her arms.

The pretty elven woman places a finger to her lips. "Shhh! Calm down, we're not here to hurt you."

Valena puts a hand over her mouth. "I... I'm sorry; I'm so frightened! These monsters are everywhere! My... my name's Valena, the arlessa's maid. Is she... all right? What happened to everyone?"

"Valena?" the elf repeats. "The smith's daughter?"

"You know my father?" Valena gasps. "I want to go back to the village... Is there a way out of here?"

She nods. "Yes. There's a tunnel that leads out through the dungeons."

"W-what about the monsters?" Valena stutters.

"Most of them are dead," the elf assures her. "Jowan will show you the way. If you run into trouble, he can protect you."

The black-haired man who steps forward looks rather thin and pale, but his staff looks sturdy and his eyes burn with determination. "Come with me."

Just before they leave, the elf grabs his arm. "Show her out quickly," she whispers. "Then meet us at the castle as fast as you can, okay?"

Jowan nods sagely. "I'll make sure she gets out safely."

"Good." She releases him and he leads Valena down the hall, where many bodies of the monsters are strewn about.

Valena doesn't know if he can hear her, but she whispers, "Thank you."

He says nothing in return, only peeking through a doorway and motioning for her to follow.

* * *

**Avina**

They barely had lyrium potions to begin with, but now, with so little left...

It's scary now how tempted she is, after all this time. Lyrium is more expensive than she is. It would be so easy to release it, to just let it go and damn the consequences.

But she can't. No, she won't.

And that's final.

Maybe.

She knows Alistair isn't happy with her for releasing Jowan; she wishes she could make him understand. But how could he possibly? She doesn't want him to know that if things were different, it would've been her in that cage.

Morrigan is pleased however; she thinks she may have gained a bit of approval from the Witch of the Wilds. Not that she was actively seeking it, as Morrigan isn't among the most trusted of her companions, but she is somewhat glad that she isn't completely hated by her.

Avina has no idea what Daylen thinks. He's voiced no opinion of Jowan so far, and he still has yet to comment on her letting him out of the dungeon.

She wonders, briefly, if he's angry.

At last, they reach the front of the castle. Avina is almost ready to cry with relief and is about to go open the gates when Daylen catches her by the arm.

"Wait," he cautions. "Look there."

He points across the yard, where a few walking corpses stand lazily, their decaying jaws hanging open as they look in random directions. Now that she's looking, she can see more up the stairs. Many of which have bows.

Damn.

"Avina," he says quietly. "Open the gate, let the knights in. Griffon will cover you. The rest of us will clear the stairs."

A childish part of her wants to disagree, to complain about how she's always the one to do the least dangerous tasks. But when it comes down to it, she thinks she trusts him. At least in a combat situation.

So she obeys.

She breaks into a sprint, rushing over to the lever as fast as she can while Griffon keeps up beside her, his ears perked up and alert. Before she even reaches it she can hear Leliana give a battle cry, Alistair's sword hitting flesh.

Once she's reached her destination, she realizes that pulling the lever down is a lot harder than it looks, especially to a mage who spent most of her life in a tower. She tries several times to pull it down with her meager strength alone until she gives up on that. She has to jump up and push it down with all her weight to make it budge, but as soon as she's done the knights of Redcliffe come charging in, weapons at the ready.

She whirls around, her hands lighting up with electricity as she searches for an opponent.

The Revenant catches her by surprise.

In her surprise, she lets the lightning shoot out of her outstretched fingers, across the field and into the monster's chest. It staggers, confused, and one of the knights trips it with his blade.

The walking skeletons are felled quickly, and soon enough they're walking into the castle.

And come face to face with what caused this.

Connor himself.

* * *

**Daylen**

He is not surprised in the least.

He isn't pleased that Jowan's prediction was correct, but at least it's what they were expecting.

A possessed mage - even if it's a child - is dangerous business. Daylen knows, the Circle hammered it into his head since he arrived the dangers of accepting a deal with a demon. Once possessed, depending on how strong the mage's will is and how powerful the demon, there is no guarantee that you will ever have control again.

There are only two ways a possession can be dealt with.

The first option is to kill them. Certainly the easiest way, but Daylen doesn't think the arl would be too pleased about them murdering his only son, possessed or no.

When Jowan arrives again, he offers the second option.

Going into the Fade to confront the demon itself, killing it and cutting the connection. The boy would survive, but as they do not have as much lyrium as would be needed, as well as several mages, the only thing they do have is blood magic.

And someone will have to die for the sacrifice if they decide to do what he has suggested.

"No, _no!"_ Avina refuses. "We can't just... kill an innocent person!"

"Take me," Isolde offers suddenly, stepping towards Jowan. "I will be the sacrifice."

"Isolde, no!" Teagan grabs her arm. "Are you mad? Eamon would never stand for this."

She only yanks her arm free. "Either they kill my son to destroy that thing inside him, or I give my life so my son can live. To me, the answer is clear."

"Blood magic," Alistair spits. "How can more evil be of any help here? Two wrongs don't make a right."

Morrigan crosses her arms. "It does seem like a sensible choice, with a willing participant."

"I agree," Daylen says. Jowan is right, after all. The power must come from somewhere, and they don't have nearly enough lyrium with them. "Isolde has offered herself; it would save the boy."

Avina whirls on him, and for a moment Daylen almost flinches, afraid she might strike him. "No," she snarls.

"Connor is blameless in this," Isolde adds. "He should not have to pay the price."

"I say we should go to the Circle," Alistair says. "It's only a day's journey, and we have treaties for them."

Avina nods. "They would help us. I agree with Alistair; we should go to them."

Daylen raises an eyebrow at her. "Are you saying we should leave these people alone with a powerful abomination? If we go to the Circle, we may come back to find everyone here dead."

"The ends _do not_ justify the means!"

Avina's scream echoes through the hall and everyone falls silent, staring at her.

"We'll leave Sten and Leliana behind," she says finally, her voice lower than Daylen has ever heard it. "They can protect the people here. With the gates open, there shouldn't be much of a problem anyway."

Daylen blinks in surprise. So does Morrigan, and possibly the rest of the group.

Everyone looks at Daylen to see if he'll go along with what she's ordered. To see if he trusts her judgment.

He could argue further, but the fire in her eyes tells him that she won't back down, not this time. And seeing how she's one of the three surviving Fereldan Grey Wardens, it wouldn't be beneficial to simply ignore her and hope she and Alistair didn't leave the group.

"Alright," he allows finally. "I suggest we clear out the remaining creatures from the castle and leave as soon as possible."

Avina opens her mouth, as if to argue, then shuts it, looking shocked.

She blinks, twice, then nods to the rest of their companions and heads for the hallway.

* * *

**Avina**

She finds it in the study.

She admits it, she's nosy. She's read the first page of the book on the desk when the top drawer catches her eye.

And when she pulls it open, she's greeted with the sight of Andraste's holy symbol.

She freezes. But... it can't be...

But it is. The amulet is cracked, but was obviously put back together with great care. So it must be it.

So she takes Alistair's mother's amulet and puts it in her pocket.

Maybe she'll remember to give it back to him when they reach camp.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: The Antivan Crow**


	12. The Antivan Crow

**This chapter is rather uneventful; romantic and fluffy, as promised to ImagineBagginsDragon. Calm yourself, there won't be UST forever XP. I hope you keep reviewing, you make me smile!**

**And a big thank you to Judy for your continued support!**

* * *

**Denerim**

"I bring word, sire," Howe begins as he makes his way over to Loghain. The dark-haired man doesn't respond, glaring at the chalice in his gauntleted hand. He often finds Loghain here of all places in the royal palace; perhaps it's because of the large fireplace that kept the harsh cold of Ferelden out. "There are demands from the bannorn that you step down from the regency. They are said to be gathering their forces. As are your allies. It appears it will be civil war after all, despite the darkspawn. Pity."

Loghain says nothing, doesn't turn away from the fire at Howe's announcement.

"I also have an interesting report," Howe continues. "There seem to be Grey Wardens who survived Ostagar. How I don't know, but they will act against you. I have arranged for a... solution, with your leave."

Loghain turns as Howe sweeps an arm backward, and a handsome, dark-skinned, tattooed elf in leather armor swaggers around the corner.

"The Antivan Crows send their regards," Zevran Arainai drawls.

Loghain scowls. "An assassin?"

"Against Grey Wardens we will need the very best, sire," Howe adds quickly.

Zevran chuckles. "And the most expensive."

"Just get it done," Loghain growls, taking a gulp from the chalice.

The pair behind him bows, and Zevran slowly backs out of the room.

He has three Grey Wardens to kill.

* * *

**Alistair**

The sun is starting to set when they reach the village to buy supplies. Daylen and Morrigan go into the pub to buy poultices while Avina and Alistair stand outside, where the air doesn't smell like liquor and smoke.

Griffon decides to go fishing, and leaves them alone on the hill.

Alistair worries it's going to be one of those awkward silences when she turns to him.

"Leliana had an interesting question the other night," she announces. "About templars and such."

Alistair scratches the back of his neck. "Oh?"

She nods. "Since you were raised in the Chantry, have you never...?" she trails off.

He raises his eyebrows innocently. "Never...? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?"

"You know what I mean," she protests.

"I'm not sure I do," he continues. "Have I never seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?"

She pretends to heave an annoyed sigh. "Now you're making fun of me."

"Make fun of you, dear lady?" He grins at her sideways. "Perish the thought. Well, tell me: have _you_ ever licked a lamppost in winter?"

She laughs, shaking her head. "No, I've never licked a lamppost in winter."

His mouth dries; he doesn't know whether to be pleased by her answer, or worried. Is it bad that he's kind of both? "Good. I hear it's quite painful. I remember one of the younger initiates did it on a dare, once, and there was pointing and laughing... oh, the humanity," he says dramatically. "I, myself, have also never done _it_. That. Not that I haven't thought about it, of course, but... you know."

Her brow wrinkles. "You've never had the opportunity?"

"Well, living in the Chantry, is... not exactly a life for rambunctious boys," he explains. "They taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of beautiful women such as yourself. That's not so bad, is it?"

"You think I'm beautiful?"

And her look of surprise makes him almost angry. Has _no one_ told her how absolutely lovely she is? "Of course you are and you know it. You're ravishing, resourceful, and all those other things you'd probably hurt me for not saying."

"I would never hurt you," she promises.

"Nor I you," he replies seriously. "Let us be off, then, lest your risqué talk make my ears blush."

* * *

**Avina**

The camp is quiet with only Daylen, Morrigan, Avina, Alistair, and Griffon there. As always, Morrigan's camp is several feet away from everyone else's, and Daylen spends most of his time over there rather than with the others. Avina is preparing for the trip in the morning, making sure everything is ready, when she turns to see Alistair knelt over by Griffon. Curious, she wanders over.

"Ow!" Alistair yelps, flinching back. "Why you little..."

Avina puts on an offended face. "Are you... _harassing_ my dog?"

"Me? Harassing your dog?" He repeats, incredulous as he regains his feet. "I should say it's the other way round. Your furry friend here took offense at me getting near his food. Snapped at me. Look..." He shows her his injured fingers.

"Good boy," Avina sniffs. "Teach that silly Alistair a lesson." She pats her mabari on the head affectionately as he growls menacingly at Alistair.

Alistair sighs. "Sometimes I forget he's a wardog. That'll teach me."

But before he can walk away, she pulls the amulet from her pocket and offers it to him. "Wait. I think... this is yours."

"This... this is my mother's amulet," he realizes, taking it and weighing the silver carefully in his hand. "It has to be. But why isn't it broken? Where did you find it?"

Griffon gets bored and wanders over to Morrigan's camp.

"I found it at Redcliffe Castle today, in the study," she explains.

"Oh. The arl's study? Then he must've... found the amulet after I threw it at the wall. And he repaired it and kept it? I don't understand, why would he do that?"

"Perhaps you mean more to him than you think."

"I... guess you could be right. We never really talked that much, and the way I left... Thank you. I mean it. I... thought I'd lost this to my own stupidity. I'll need to talk to him about this, if he recovers from his... _when_ he recovers, that is. I wish I'd had this a long time ago. Did you remember me mentioning it? Wow," he marvels. "I'm more used to people not really listening when I go on about things."

"Of course I remembered," she assures him, touching his armored arm. "You're special to me."

He mirrors her warm smile goofily. "Is this the part where the music starts and we begin dancing? Because I'm game. Where's the minstrels?"

* * *

**Morrigan**

Morrigan scowls at the display of the two Wardens across the camp, shaking her head in disbelief. Romantic idiots.

Romances like that can only end in disappointment and heartbreak. As they will learn the hard way.

But it matters not. It is no concern of hers if they decide to engage in a disastrous love affair.

Beside her, Daylen watches the same exchange with a knowing smirk on his face. Morrigan raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

He shrugs. "Our little Alistair is growing up. They just makes me proud, sometimes."

At her strange look, he continues. "Those two are as pure as the driven snow, yet here they are. I wouldn't be surprised if they bedded each other by next Tuesday, by the looks they've been giving each other."

Morrigan sighs. "I suppose if it takes their mind off our current predicament... 'tis still rather sickening." She notices a rustle of the brush beside her tent, and wanders over.

The stench of dead meat meets her nostrils and she bares her teeth, shaking the dead rabbit out of her unmentionables. _Oh_, that stupid... "Damnable dog," she mutters.

Daylen laughs. "I think he means it as a sign of affection."

"Then I'd rather he hated me," she replies, tossing her undergarments into her tent. "Anyway... what do you wish of me?"

"I'd like to ask you a question," he tells her.

"If you must."

"How did you become a shapechanger?" he asks.

She's not surprised; if it were her, she knows she'd be insatiably curious as well.

"I was not born such. 'Tis a skill of Flemeth's, taught over many years in the Wilds. The Chasind have their tales of we witches, saying that we assume the forms of creatures to watch them from hiding. When a child is alone and separate from his tribe, that is when we strike, dragging the young boy kicking and screaming to our lair to be devoured." She smirks. "A most amusing legend."

"I take it your mother has been doing this for a long time, then?"

She nods. "Changing her form, certainly. Devouring lost children, I cannot say. She has not done it in my experience, though in truth my lifespan is but a fraction of her own. Why do you ask?" She wonders. "Is there something specific you wish to know?"

He seems to deliberate, as if deciding which question he wants to ask. "Can anyone become a shapechanger, then?"

Morrigan shrugs. "Anyone wit sufficient will. But the act of transformation is a magical one. 'Tis a spell, and thus requires a mage's talents." She pauses. "Indeed, you could learn the spells required. If I cared to teach you."

"Did you spend a lot of time as an animal?"

"There were nights when the Wilds called to me," she admits, "'tis true. You look upon the world around you and you think you know it all. I have smelled it as a wolf, listened as a cat, prowled shadows that you never dreamed existed. But my life is as a human. I am under no illusions to the contrary."

"I've never heard of magic like that before," he comments.

She does a mental eye roll. The Chantry of course keeps a tight leash on all the mages of the Circles, only allowing them to learn what they deem 'safe'. "'Tis not unheard of, in the remote corners of the world. There are traditions of magic outside the Circle of Magi, despite what those mages would have you believe. Some of these traditions are old, indeed, passed down as carefully-guarded lore from one generation to the next. The zealots of the Chantry would uproot all such practitioners if they could, but as luck have it some still exist. My mother is such a one."

"That's good," Daylen approves. "Such traditions need to be preserved."

"Oh? I'm shocked you think so, being a mage of the Circle as you were. But perhaps you felt a little like a caged bird, caught within that dark tower?"

He smiles wryly. "You could say that."

"I thought so."

"That's all I wanted to ask," he says.

"Indeed?" she asks. "Have you an opinion on my abilities, then? Am I an unnatural abomination to be put to the torch?"

He snorts. "Hardly. Your abilities have proven quite useful; I'm not as closed-minded as some of the other Circle mages."

Morrigan smiles. "My, you are simply full of surprises, aren't you? But enough of such talk. Let us proceed, lest the dust gather on us."

He is... pleasing, she admits to herself as he chuckles and walks off. Sharp and quick, reasonable and dangerous. When she looks into his midnight eyes, she knows what he is.

A survivor. Like her, he understands what needs to be done.

She likes to tell herself this is good, because it will make what she must do that much easier.

* * *

**Avina**

They rise at dawn and quickly pack up. They haven't got much time; they need to get the mages' assistance and get back to Redcliffe as quickly as possible.

Alistair is still kind of tired, Avina can tell, because he's yawning and stumbling over things until they've been walking for about half an hour.

Daylen and Morrigan walk several feet in front of them, having a conversation that Avina's sure she doesn't want to hear.

Alistair starts to look nervous, and he moves to pull out his canteen when suddenly a flower appears in his hands. As she watches, he holds the pink rose out to her, the delicate petals fluttering in the wind.

"Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?"

She takes it carefully and pretends to think about it. "Your new weapon of choice?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Yes, that's right. Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent." He takes a deep sniff and sighs as if smelling something good. "Or, you know, it could just be a rose. I know that's pretty dull in comparison."

She giggles and looks at the petals of the bloom. "You've been thumbing that flower for a while now."

"I picked it in Lothering," he tells her. "I remember thinking, 'how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?' I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I've had it ever since."

Her lips quirk up. "That's a nice sentiment."

He swallows. "I thought that I might... give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."

She looks stunned for a moment, butterflies assaulting her stomach. Then she grins, and raises an eyebrow in a suggestive manner. "Feeling a little thorny, are we?"

Alistair flushes and chuckles. "Wow, 'she'll never see through that,' I told myself. Boy was I wrong."

"Thank you, Alistair," she says seriously, running her fingers over the soft petals of the rose as she holds it close to her chest. "That's a lovely thought."

"I'm glad you like it. I was just thinking... here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this... darkness."

"I... feel the same way about you," she says quietly.

"I'm glad you like it. Now... if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."

"Sounds good," she agrees, tucking the rose behind her ear and putting her fists on her hips. "Off with the armor, then!"

He nearly chokes on his tongue. "Ha... ha... bluff called! Damn! She saw right through me."

"You're so cute when you're bashful," she teases.

"I'll be..." he laughs nervously. "I'll be standing over here. Until the blushing stops. Just to be, uh, safe. You know how it is."

He shuffles a few feet away awkwardly, folding his arms behind his back and whistling inconspicuously.

Warmth floods her face, but not from embarrassment.

She thinks... she might love him.

* * *

**Daylen**

By around noon they've made it almost halfway there, so Daylen thinks they'll probably reach the tower by nightfall. Or at least he hopes they will.

A man's voice cursing ahead catches him off guard, but he immediately falls back with Morrigan as they ready their weapons. But when they see the owner of the voice, he is alone and unarmed with a merchant's cart.

Hmm. Daylen lowers his staff as he approaches, but the gray-haired man still seems uneasy.

"Er... you'll have to forgive me if I seem a bit nervous," the man starts. "Not many people traveling in this part of Ferelden. Of course that's part of my problem, isn't it? Mule got spooked by a wisp and ran off into the woods. Now what do I do?"

Daylen crosses his arms. "'Part' of your problem?"

"Well, yes," the man sighs. "It's been quite the month... Allow me to introduce myself. Felix de Grosbois, merchant and entrepreneur, at your service."

And under normal circumstances, Daylen might have been friendly and introduced himself as well. But as they are not, and Daylen doesn't trust this stranger (as there is a possibility that he could be a Loghain supporter), he narrows his eyes. "A merchant? Out here?"

Felix shrugs sadly. "I don't normally take this route, but with the war I was hoping for a bit of luck and good weather in the mountains. Sadly, I've had neither. This trip has been one miserable disaster after another. I don't suppose you'd... consider helping a fellow out?"

Daylen spares a glance backwards at Avina and Alistair, but the two don't seem to have an opinion.

Or they're too busy ogling each other.

He gives a mental sigh and scratches the beginning of a beard on his chin. (He _still_ hasn't gotten the hang of shaving with these bloody daggers...) "Help a fellow out... how?"

"Of all the other things that went wrong, the worst is this artifact I bought in Jader. It's a 'control rod', I'm told. For a golem. No point in me keeping it, however, as I'll never get to use it," Felix laments. "But maybe you could?"

"Why is it that you'll never be able to use it?" Daylen asks.

The merchant wipes a hand over his eyes. "Well... the golem didn't come with the rod. It's supposed to be down in a village to the south, waiting to be activated. But even if I could get down there, which I can't, I understand the place has been overrun by darkspawn. I thought you didn't look like that would be such an issue with you and your group. Or I'm hoping that's so, at least."

Daylen purses his lips. A golem is definitely nothing to turn up one's nose at. A nearly immortal soldier made of stone or metal? Invaluable, especially to people as desperate as they are. "We could definitely use it," he agrees finally.

Felix nods. "Just as well." He hands Daylen the control rod, which looks rather like a rod of fire he once saw at the Circle. "As I mentioned before, you'll find the golem down south, in a town called Honnleath. I'll mark it on your map, if you like."

He shows their map to Felix, who makes a circle to the south of Redcliffe.

"Just hold up the rod and say 'dulef gar'," Felix instructs. "That will wake the golem up, or so I'm told. I hope it works."

"Well, I do, too." He shakes the merchant's hand. "We'd best be off, then."

"Best of luck to you, then," the merchant wishes them. "Now, I guess it's up to me to find that mule myself..."

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Alone in the Fade**


	13. Alone in the Fade

**Thank you to everyone who favorite, followed, and reviewed this story! Author cookies for you!**

**A shout out to ImagineBagginsDragon, whose awesome reviews make me laugh and inspire me to write a bit faster!**

* * *

**Daylen**

Lake Calenhad comes into view at dusk.

Daylen is less than thrilled to see that blasted tower again, but he reminds himself that it would have happened eventually.

And now that he's here... he can say hello to Greagoir. The thought of ruining that man's day does put a smile on his face.

He notices that Avina looks rather nervous. He doesn't know why; he doesn't know what happened with her to make Duncan use the Right of Conscription, but he suspects they are related.

Alistair briefly mumbles something about the mages just _loving_ him as they approach the docks.

Daylen knows something is wrong. Instead of the man who usually ferried people across, an older man named Kester, there is a young Templar. A rather grumpy looking blonde one.

"You!" He barks. "You're not looking to get across to the tower, are you? Because I have strict orders not to let anyone pass."

"We don't have time for this," Avina says, stepping forward; "we are Grey Wardens and we need the assistance of the mages in the Blight."

"Oh, you're Grey Wardens, are you?" the Templar asks skeptically. "Prove it."

"I have these documents," she replies, producing the Grey Warden treaties and handing them to him.

"Yes? Ah, the Grey Warden seal," he recognizes. "You know, I have some documents, too. They say I'm the Queen of Antiva. What do you say to that?"

Daylen grins. "_Well_, I say it is lovely to meet you, your highness. And I might add that you look ravishing this evening," he says with a bow, trying to take the tempar's hand to kiss it.

The Templar yanks it away, looking uncomfortable. "Well, it was nice chatting with you. Now on your way. Right now. Go."

Daylen is about ready to threaten to eat his children when Avina clears her throat, giving him a pointed look. "Can't we work something out?"

The Templar's gaze drifts over to Morrigan and her scantily clad body. "That dark-eyed temptress over there," he starts. "Surely the tower would be far too dull for her. Because it gets a little lonely out here sometimes... and you know, you could just leave her with me-"

Morrigan raises an eyebrow and gives a sultry smile. "Oh, excellent," she purrs. "I have been hoping for new prey."

The Templar starts to look worried. "Prey?"

"'Twill take but a moment," she continues. "Perhaps the you should go aboard the vessel to prepare while we are away. We must row ourselves across. I fear the lad will no longer have the use of his limbs... or his eyes, once I am done with him."

If the Templar looked scared before, he looks downright terrified now. "Er... maybe I should-"

Morrigan smiles wickedly. "Wonderful!" She says gleefully, and Daylen really has to hand it to Morrigan; she really knows how to scare a Templar. "I can sense his terror! Oh, that will make the loving all the sweeter."

The Templar looks as if he will never sleep again, his eyes as wide as saucers. "So you said you wanted to get across?" he says quickly. "Maybe we should go now. Right now. NOW."

Daylen can barely keep a straight face as he replies, "Yes, we should."

Morrigan gives him a wink, and he grins back at her.

On their trip across, the Templar sits as far away from Morrigan as he can and doesn't say a word.

* * *

**Avina**

The moment they step into the tower, she can see almost a dozen Templars. Her heartbeat kicks up in fear, but she knows this isn't right. Usually, only three Templars guard the entrance of the tower. At most.

But as she steps forward, she sees that even Greagoir is here, speaking to another Templar.

"And I want two men stationed within sight of the doors at all times. Do not open the doors without my express consent. Is that clear?" she hears him order when they walk up to him.

The other Templar salutes. "Yes, ser."

"The doors are barred," Alistair notices. "Are they keeping people out? Or in?"

Greagoir finally turns to them. "Now we wait, and pray."

"Greagoir," Daylen gushes airily, batting his eyelashes. "It's so _good_ to see you again."

Greagoir's expression immediately sours. "Well, look who's back? And a proper Grey Warden, are we? Glad you're not dead."

_Yes,_ Avina thinks, _and that Templar out there is the Queen of Antiva._

"What's happening?" she asks, peeking over Daylen's shoulder. "Why are the great doors barred?"

"I shall speak plainly. The tower is no longer under our control," he says gravely. "Abominations and demons stalk the tower's halls. We were too complacent... First Jowan, now this. Don't think I've forgotten your role in Jowan's escape," he directs the last part at Avina, and she has to fight the urge to shrink back.

"What's become of the first enchanter?" she asks, changing the subject.

Greagoir sighs. "We don't know. We saw only demons, hunting Templars and mages alike. I realized we could not defeat them and told my men to flee."

"The mages are not defenseless," she protests. "Some must still be alive."

"If any still live, the Maker Himself has shielded them. No one could have survived those monstrous creatures. It is too painful to hope for survivors and find... nothing."

"I will look for survivors," she says firmly.

Everyone stares at her.

Daylen opens his mouth, and she just knows he is going to tell her that it's foolish, so she cuts him off. "I don't care if you go with me. I will look for survivors, even if I am alone."

Daylen shuts his mouth, sighs, then scratches the back of his neck. "... Very well, then."

"I assure you, an abomination is a force to be reckoned with, and you will face more than one," Greagoir tries to dissuade her.

She meets his gaze. "I _have_ to try. It is the right thing to do."

Greagoir frowns, but doesn't push any further. "A word of caution... once you cross that threshold, there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred. I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe. I will only believe it is over if the first enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen... then the Circle is lost, and must be destroyed. May Andraste lend you her courage, whatever you decide."

She half expects Daylen and Morrigan to say 'good luck' and walk away.

Yet they stay.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Daylen tells her. "But I'll help you."

"You're right," Alistair adds. "This is the right thing to do. If anyone is trapped inside, we can't just abandon them."

"I will follow you," Morrigan sighs. "Even if I do not like it."

She doesn't know what to say. So she just beams at them, and leads them into the tower.

The doors shut with finality behind them. They will not come out again until this is over.

* * *

**Daylen**

After encountering one of the remaining senior mages, Wynne (who apparently taught Avina healing at one point), the first floor is rather uneventful. At least, to Daylen. In all honesty, the way the Templars were talking about it, he expected an army of incredibly strong demons; not the few irritating randomly placed abominations.

The next floor up, he recalls, is the stockroom, the mage's quarters, and Irving's office. There, they encounter Owain, the Tranquil who was in charge of the stockroom.

He's every bit as cold and hollow as when Daylen met him. He seems completely unconcerned with the recent events, uncaring of the fact that his life and the lives of everyone here are in danger.

It reminds him why he used to wake up screaming from nightmares of Templars branding that sun onto his forehead.

Daylen will admit, he is glad to hear that Niall is alive, even though he only met the man once. In all likelihood, most of his friends and those he knew are abominations, blood mages, or have died a horrible death. So yes, he's glad someone he knew is alive and fighting.

As for the matter of the blood mages, he isn't surprised. Desperate people, desperate times, desperate measures.

That doesn't mean he likes it, however.

The young girl they prepare to kill though, is different. Her mind is her own, under the control of no demon, and shows remorse. She is definitely formidable, as they have seen, but he doesn't see any reason to let her live-

"Help us fight off the Blight," Avina offers suddenly. "Redeem yourself."

Daylen is almost... proud. He hadn't thought of that.

And she agrees. They have another fighter for their cause.

Wynne isn't happy, and Alistair seems confused, but neither of them go against Avina's word.

Irving's office turns up empty. No one is there, no first enchanter, no abominations. Daylen searches the room anyway, looking for clues, books, or anything that might help them.

Among some other things, he finds a small painted box in Irving's desk. He doesn't really know why, but he takes it with him.

When he pulls an ancient looking, yet well kept, black grimoire from Irving's chest, it makes him think of Morrigan. He shrugs, tucking the volume into his pack, and they head up the stairs to the next floor.

The third floor is, by comparison, Daylen's least favorite floor. Why? One word.

Templars.

The third floor is full of them, and none of them listen to reason. They're all either possessed or have been charmed by a desire demon. Either way, they fight like madmen, and a group of Templars against a group of mostly mages is not a good matchup.

He's going to have a headache from all the times one of those idiots hit him with a smite.

The final room, however, has no Templars. Daylen is pleased, but while they fight he realizes that the few Tranquil that are left are being transformed into shades and the corpses in the room are reanimating.

There are only two Tranquil left when they finally kill the abomination and the rest of the creatures.

"Thank you. That was an uncomfortable experience," they say tonelessly. Daylen sighs; at least they thanked them.

And up the stairs they go.

It's more of the same thing they've already faced, until the center room.

In the middle stands a lone abomination, standing over the still form of...

Niall. He may not have known him long, but he recognizes the shaggy brown hair and the neatly kept robes.

Avina cries out in horror at the creature, which slowly turns to face them. His twisted face seems utterly bored.

"Oh look," he drawls in a voice that could only come from a demon. "Visitors. I'd entertain you, but... too much effort involved."

Daylen can feel the power pulsing around this creature; it is no ordinary demon. Panic slowly fills him, but he forces a sneer. "Good. That will make you that much easier to kill."

"But why?" the demon asks. "Aren't you tired of all the violence in this world? I know I am. Wouldn't you like to just lay down and... forget about all this?" His form starts to glow as if on fire. Daylen takes a step back, his head feeling heavier than before... "Leave it all behind."

"This is ridiculous," Morrigan yawns. "You cannot expect me to sleep on a floor sticky with blood."

"No... no..." Avina whimpers, trying to cover her ears as she sways on her feet. Beside her, Griffon collapses into a heap on the floor.

"Can't... keep eyes open," Alistair mumbles. "Someone... pinch... me..."

"Resist," Wynne begs. "You must resist, else we are all lost..."

"Why do you fight?" The demon continues. "You deserve more... you deserve a rest. The world will go on without you."

Everything goes black.

* * *

When he opens his eyes, he is alone.

Or so he thinks for a few seconds. He can see the figures of three people in the distance; one being startlingly familiar.

Duncan.

That is the moment he realizes where he is. He knows Duncan is dead. Knowing this allows him to think more clearly, to remember why he's here.

The tower. The demons. The sloth demon.

He must escape this place.

He feels no remorse when he cuts down Duncan's imposter. The true Duncan is dead, and this one is just a poor imitation, a charade to keep him trapped here. The other two are ones he doesn't recognize, but it doesn't matter. He wastes no time. As soon as the pedestal shows up, he has traveled to the next section of the Fade.

Niall only confirms his fears. If every one of his companions are trapped here, completely unaware of what's really happening, this will be...

Very difficult.

He sighs, wiping a hand over tired eyes. It's going to be a long night, he can tell.

* * *

He finds Alistair first.

He's actually kind of surprised; he sort of expected to see him here with Avina, living in marital bliss with no less than five children running around.

He should have expected seeing the sister though. Alistair has always longed to belong to a family, after all.

But where is Avina?

Alistair is almost too cheerful as he greets him, and Daylen has to remind himself that Alistair has no idea what's really going on.

"Alistair," he says sharply, to get his attention. "Listen; I need you to think for a moment. How did you get here?"

Alistair only grins. "I flew on a griffon's back. How else are Grey Wardens supposed to travel?"

"Alistair," Daylen groans. Don't lose your temper, he tells himself.

"Is your friend staying for supper, Alistair?" The voice of the demon is so soft and gentle, caring and warm.

"Say you'll stay?" Alistair asks. "Goldanna's a great cook-"

Daylen grabs him by the shoulder, cutting him off. "I know this may be somewhat difficult for you," he snaps, "but think! What were we doing? Why are we here?"

For the first time, Alistair looks doubtful, so Daylen keeps going.

"We need to bring Loghain to justice, remember?" he presses. "And what about Avina? Where is she?"

Alistair jerks back as if struck, his mouth dropping open. "I- I- Avina?"

"The elven healer who looks at you like you're a prince in shining armor," Daylen reminds him. "She's in trouble, we're all in trouble if we can't find each other."

"I remember," Alistair breathes in shock. "The tower... There were demons..."

"Then we were trapped in the Fade," Daylen finishes.

"This... This is a dream? It seems so real," he breathes.

"Of course it's real," Demon Goldanna says quickly. "Now wash up before supper and I-"

"Something's not right here," Alistair insists. "I think I should go."

"Come with me then," Daylen offers. "Help me find the others."

"No!" the demon hisses, it's true voice leaking into Goldanna's angelic purr. "He is ours! And I'd rather see him dead than free!"

Goldanna starts to beat at them with her fists, but her children change and warp into skeletal monsters with swords and bows. Luckily though, Alistair has regained himself enough to help.

When it's over, Alistair stands over the corpse of the demon pretending to be his sister, looking down sadly.

"How did I not see this earlier?" he laments.

"You weren't trained to recognize the Fade and when you were dreaming," Daylen reminds him.

"Yes, well, try not to tell everyone how easily fooled I was. Are we going then?" Alistair asks, just as his form starts to shimmer. "Wait! Where are you going? What's happening to me? Hey!"

And Alistair disappears from sight.

Daylen screams in frustration, punching the side of a Fade hill as he passes on his way to the pedestal.

He just hopes the others will be more helpful.

* * *

The next nightmare he enters is Wynne's.

Now he really wishes he had Avina with him; she knew the old woman so much better than he did.

There are dead mage apprentices around her, their eyes open but glassy and unseeing. Creepy. Wynne stands in the middle of the corpses, her face buried in her hands.

She proves both easier and harder to get through to than Alistair. She's almost as stubborn as Avina, but she's also a mage and begins to understand when he asks her to concentrate on how they got to this point.

"Perhaps... some time away from this place will help me think clearly," she says wearily after thinking for a few moments.

"Some time away from here will help you feel better," he encourages.

An elven apprentice lifts to his feet. Daylen jumps, startled, and he opens his mouth.

"Don't leave us, Wynne," he pleads with the voice of a child. "We don't want to be alone."

Wynne backs away from the apprentice, her eyes widening in realization and fear. "Holy Maker! Stay away, foul creature!"

"You must face them, Wynne," Daylen whispers to her as he readies his staff. "This is your greatest fear; if you can defeat them you can leave this prison."

The dead apprentice follows her. "Stay, Wynne," he commands. "Sleep soundly in the comforting embrace of the earth. Do not fight it. You belong here, with us."

Wynne shakes her head frantically. "N-no, not yet. My task is not yet done... it is not time yet."

The ghostly mage floats forward another step. "Come... come away to your rest."

And that's all he can say before Wynne casts arcane bolt, throwing the apprentice away from her.

The other apprentices rise as well, but with Daylen at her back Wynne strikes them down one by one until none remain.

"Is it over?" Wynne says, almost disbelievingly. She turns to Daylen. "Oh, thank the Maker for you." She starts to shimmer. "Wait, what's happening? Where are you going?"

Then she too disappears.

Daylen lets out a sigh. Well, with any luck, they would at least be there when he had to face the Sloth demon itself.

* * *

When Daylen steps into the next nightmare, he knows whose it is immediately, because he can hear her already.

"Away!" Morrigan snaps. "Away with you! I shall have no more of your pestering!"

In front of her stands an imitation of Flemeth, wearing a forlorn expression.

Frankly, Daylen only finds it disquieting.

"I am your mother," the demon replies, sounding hurt. "Do you not love me?"

Morrigan scowls. "You are as much my mother as my little finger," she holds up her pinky, "right here, is the Queen of Ferelden. I know you, Fade spirit. You cannot fool me."

The spirit frowns back at her, eyes narrowing. "Are you more clever than your own dear mother? Surely such pride must be punished!"

The spirit slaps her across the cheek. Hard.

Morrigan stumbles back briefly, holding her face.

"There!" the Fade spirit spits. "That is for not showing respect!"

Morrigan only laughs, putting her hands on her hips. "That is far more like it, but it is too little too late, spirit." She notices Daylen finally, and she turns to him eagerly. "'Tis you at last! Come and rid me of this vexatious spirit! I weary of being prodded!"

Daylen raises an eyebrow. "... Why is she prodding you?"

Morrigan crosses her arms. "You ask me? It cannot even read my mind well enough to form a decent copy! Yet it hounds me still!"

The false Flemeth looks sad again. "She doesn't even acknowledge her own mother! My heart, it breaks!"

Daylen can't help himself; he snorts. "Wow."

"Oh, slay it, and quickly!" Morrigan groans. "Even the true Flemeth was never as annoying as this!"

Daylen takes up his staff. "As you wish, my lady."

And he does.

"'Tis about time. That was most-" Morrigan is cut short, her body glimmering faintly as if on fire. "Wait! What is this? No, not this again! I refuse!"

Refuse though she did, she disappears anyway.

Daylen cracks his neck to the side. Only Avina and Griffon left now.

* * *

Griffon is easy to find, and he proves the easiest to wake from his nightmare.

Because in Griffon's nightmare, he's just asleep.

"Griffon!" Daylen calls in relief.

Griffon twitches in his sleep, one of his legs kicking out as if he were running in a dream.

"C'mon, boy!" Daylen booms, leaning down to gently thump him on the side. "We have things to do, darkspawn to kill, wars to stop! Up and at 'em!"

Griffon snorts, then his eyes flutter open. And though Daylen thought that Griffon didn't care for him, the dog leaps to his feet and jumps around excitedly. Daylen thought that he would fade away as the others had, but as he watches, Griffon runs off into the mist as fast as he can.

He assumes this means he's free. He hopes so, at least. If not, he's sure Avina will kill him for losing her dog.

* * *

When at last he finds her, he thinks at first that he's possibly in the wrong dream.

It appears he's back in Redcliffe dungeon, but this time there are three guards around the cell that held Jowan. He tries to look inside, but all he can see is a huddled figure in the corner.

One of the guards notices him and hits his sword on the bars of the cell. "Oi, Maleficar!" He snarls. "Wake up, you stupid bitch! You've got a visitor."

Daylen's eyes widen. No... it can't be...

But it is. Avina turns her dirty face to the door of the cell, allowing him to see her. Her hair is down and tangled down her back, and she wears tattered robes that hang loosely around her skinny frame.

He can't believe it. How could this be her nightmare? As far as he knows, Avina isn't a Maleficar. Not that he'd ever asked her. But she couldn't be, right? He'd have known otherwise?

As he stares, she stands on shaky legs. Now that he can see the rest of her, he can see the bruises running up and down her arms and legs. Bile rises in his throat.

"Avina?" He manages to murmur.

She doesn't meet his eyes. "It's time, then?" she asks quietly.

Daylen's brow furrows. "Time for what?"

"My execution. Are you here to kill me?"

_"What?" _And she sounds so empty, so indifferent about it. It's so different from the fierce young woman he thought he knew. Was this really her, or was she an imitation, and someone else's nightmare?

"I don't get visitors," she tells him. "No one wants to see me."

"Avina, it's me!" He practically shouts at her. "Daylen Amell, remember?"

A wrinkle forms between her brows. "Are you the one who dared Anders to bed me?"

Oh. Right. "Well, yes, but... that's not what I mean. We're comrades. Grey Wardens."

The guard closest to him guffaws. "Ey, you hear that, mate? We got ourselves a Grey Warden here!"

The other guards laugh. "Yeah, and I'm Duke Prosper."

Avina's eyes start to shine. "So you are here to make fun of me," she accuses.

"Avina, no!" He curses. "Listen. We were chosen together by Duncan. He took us to Ostagar. Don't you remember? Daveth and Jory didn't survive the Joining, but we did. We lit the beacon at the tower of Ishal, but Loghain fled and left us to die. We were shot. That's where I got these scars." He shows her his collarbone, which has two scars. "You threw yourself in front of Alistair to save him."

The sound of Alistair's name sends a rush of air into her lungs, but he keeps going.

"Morrigan's mother saved us. We would have died, but she rescued us from the tower and sent us with her daughter to end the Blight."

Avina blinks rapidly, as if trying to open the eyes of her real body. "What- but, I was caught learning blood magic in the Circle."

"That's not true. Jowan was," he corrects.

"Jowan escaped," she insists.

"He did, but Loghain caught him," he explains. "Offered him a way out. Told him to poison Arl Eamon. He was invited to the castle by Lady Isolde, the arl's wife, to train their son Connor to hide his magic. But Connor was distraught over the poisoning of his father, and accidentally tore open the Veil. A desire demon possessed him. We're at the Circle now, trying to get the mages to save him. You won't let them slay him, and you didn't let Jowan use Isolde's blood to send you into the Fade. But we have to hurry, Avina. We have to kill Sloth and escape, so we can find the first enchanter and get out of here."

Avina looks at him in shock, and the guards laugh harder, mocking both of them. Avina bites her lip, looking at the floor with indecision.

"Avina," he whispers. "If you don't escape, we'll die. Griffon will die. Alistair will die. Connor, Leliana, Sten, and Morrigan will die. And the world will be ended by the Blight. _Please_."

"Yes, _please_ save us, Grey Warden!" A guard chortles, placing the back of his hand on his forehead. The other guards are practically roaring.

Avina lowers her head, her hands clenching into fists.

Daylen sighs, and is about to try again when-

_BANG!_

The cell door flies back, propelled by a chunk of stone the size of an ogre's head. It hits one of the guards head on, crushing him beneath it, and a furious mage steps out of the cell.

Flames light up her hands as she faces the one standing to the left of her cell, forcing him back with the blasts as Daylen, almost too surprised to act, turns on the last guard.

They shriek inhumanly as they die, their bodies crumpling under the combined force of Daylen and Avina's magic. When it's over, Avina stands over them panting, her fists still shaking in fury. She glares down at them as if she wishes she could kill them again, and if it were Daylen, he would too.

He's expecting it this time when her body starts to shimmer, but she looks up in a panic.

"It's alright, Avina. We're getting out of here!"

That is all he has time to say before she is gone, too.

But her nightmare leaves him curious.

Is she a blood mage?

He'll have to ask her the next time their lives aren't in immediate danger.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Where Demons Hide**


	14. Where Demons Hide

**Oh my gosh, you guys! This story now has FAN ART!**

**A HUGE THANK YOU to the absolutely marvelous TheTasteofColors on DeviantArt for drawing Avina for us! You're amazing, woman! A swift update for you!**

**And hugs and cookies for everyone who favorited, reviewed, and/or is following this story! You are all _so_ awesome!**

* * *

**Daylen**

This is it. He's defeated all the demons protecting Sloth. He's vulnerable. Alone.

Daylen is not.

Avina is there, looking strong and furious and ready for anything. Alistair is beside her, his shield at the ready, his expression matching Avina's. Griffon too, snarling in fury as his muscles tense in preparation for his attack. Wynne is there as well, and Morrigan. They stand behind him, and for a moment he's just so proud of them... the people he didn't think had this kind of strength end up being some of the strongest people he's ever known.

The demon barely has enough time to speak a few words before they are on him.

* * *

**Avina**

Her eyes flutter open, breath rushing into her lungs as she gazes up at the bloody ceiling.

They did it.

A thump catches her attention. She lifts her head, only to see that the demon has fallen to the floor. Dead.

Beside her, the others start to get to their feet. Griffon gives a whine as he stretches, his tongue lolling out to the side. Alistair groans, and before she can blink he is hoisting her to her feet, placing his hands on her shoulders and asking her if she's alright.

Avina laughs. "I'm fine, Alistair. We made it."

"Not quite," Daylen corrects. "We've got to take the Litany of Andralla and kill Uldred. And any other demons left here, as well."

Avina shrugs. "After that, I'm sure killing Uldred will be like storming an Orlesian tea party."

* * *

In the end, Avina agrees to be the one to use the Litany when blood mages try to use mind control. They have enough mage fighters; it would be far more beneficial for Avina to read it than Alistair. Morrigan refused, and Daylen didn't care to push it as everyone else seemed willing. Daylen is better off fighting, and Wynne is the most experienced healer they have.

The rest of the tower seems to be a breeze compared to what they just went through. It is more of what they faced before the sloth demon, if slightly larger in number. But everyone is almost viscous in the way they tear the abominations apart with magic, sword, and teeth. They're angry that they were so easily overcome by one demon, and this anger fuels their strength as they fight their way to the top of the tower.

The staircase leading up to the Harrowing Chamber are in sight when she sees a magic barrier, keeping a familiar armored man trapped inside.

Someone she knew during her time in the Circle.

"Cullen," she gasps, hurrying up to him.

His eyes widen briefly before narrowing in suspicion. "This trick again? I know what you are. I will stay strong." He goes down on one knee.

Her eyebrows lower in confusion as she chews her lower lip. "Cullen? Don't you recognize me?"

"Only too well," he affirms, clasping his hands together in front of him in prayer and bowing his head. "How far they must have delved into my thoughts... Enough visions! If anything in you is human, kill me now and stop this game. You broke the others, but I will stay strong, for my sake... for theirs... Sifting through my thoughts, tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never _have_... Using my shame against me... my ill-advised infatuation with _her_... a mage, of all things. I'm so tired of these cruel jokes... these tricks... these..."

Avina is so red in the face when he finishes, she thinks she must resemble a tomato. "Uh... I don't think I should be hearing this..."

"Silence!" Cullen shouts, rising to his feet. "I'll not listen to anything you say. Now begone!" He waits a second, as if hoping for them to disappear. "Still here? But that always worked before. I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them!"

"I _am_ real," she insists. "I came here to help."

"I am beyond caring what you think! The Maker knows my sin, and I pray that he will forgive me," Cullen says, looking at the floor.

"Your sin?" Avina repeats. "Why would you think that? You've violated no vow, broken no law."

"When you knew me, I was an innocent," he tells her, more calmly than before. "I wanted to be a knight, but I never really thought about why we were needed. Now, my eyes have been opened. The naiveté I once had is gone forever. But I welcome the change as long as it helps me better serve the Chantry. You are a mage, and I, a Templar. It is my duty to oppose you and all that you are."

She and Cullen didn't know each other well, but he had always been so kind to her... In the hallways, he always offered her a warm smile. When he caught her after hours in the library, he never punished her or turned her over to Greagoir like some of the others would have done... She considered him a friend.

His words now cut into her, stinging in her chest and behind her eyes. He speaks to her as if she is a monster, a wild animal that needs to be caged.

Her lips tremble slightly as she listens to him, forcing herself not to cry for everything that's happened to him and the loss of his kind openness.

"Why have you returned to the tower?" Cullen asks. "How did you survive?"

"Greagoir told me what happened," she explains. "This was my home; I couldn't leave it like this."

"As it was mine. And look what they've done to it," he spits. "They deserve to die. Uldred most of all. They caged us like animals... searched for ways to break us. I'm the only one left... They turned some into... monsters. And... there was nothing I could do."

"What about Irving and the other mages?" She's almost afraid of how he will answer, but she has to know. "Where are they?"

"Uldred... he took the ones who were resisting. Irving and some of the other mages. They are in the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds coming out from there... oh, Maker... He's doing something to them. I can feel it. Something horrible..."

"His hatred of mages is so intense," Alistair murmurs, his expression something between horror and awe. "The memory of his friends' deaths must still be fresh in his mind."

"We have to move quickly," Daylen says, stepping forward. "Irving will likely die if we aren't fast enough."

"He's as good as dead," Cullen says firmly. "You must end it now, before it's too late."

Avina shakes her head frantically. "You know I can't just kill everyone, Cullen. I would never harm an innocent."

"Are you really saving anyone by taking this risk?" Cullen snaps. "To ensure this horror is ended... to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there!"

"No," Avina decides. "I would rather spare Maleficarum than have the blood of innocence on my hands."

"As would I," Daylen agrees, crossing his arms.

Cullen looks as if he wants to continue arguing, but the look on Daylen's face silences it. He sighs. "Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your compassion hasn't doomed us all."

"We need to go," Daylen urges.

Avina nods, and everyone follows her up the stairs and into the Harrowing Chamber.

* * *

It's as dark as she remembers from her Harrowing, but the smell of ozone greets her nostrils and electricity crackles in the air, making the hairs on her arms stand on end.

But the sight...

A mage she doesn't know stands on his knees before Uldred, his arms bound above him magically by two abominations as Uldred shoots lightning straight into his chest and a blood-curdling scream is torn from him.

When they rush forward, Uldred doesn't even look at them. He ends the spell and approaches the mage, the abominations forcing him to his feet. "Do you accept the gift that I offer?" Uldred asks, taking the mage's chin in his hand. Wide-eyed, the mage nods, and the abominations drop him. He falls limply to the floor.

At Uldred's nod, the two abominations move to stand beside him, and together they attack the mage at their feet with spirit energy again and again until his form twists, changes, and grows into a monstrous shape like the ones who stand beside Uldred.

A choked cry escapes Avina, and Uldred finally turns to face them.

Uldred must be one of the most terrifying things she's ever seen.

True, she's seen many horrors as a Grey Warden; darkspawn are powerful, dangerous enemies. They haunt her nightmares.

But Uldred...

She used to think that when a mage became an abomination, something about them changed. Maybe their eyes turned red. Maybe their voices changed, like Connor's. Maybe they grew fangs. Maybe they grew into the monsters that she sees now. Uldred, however, doesn't seem to have changed at all. He looks exactly as he did when she saw him at Ostagar. He looks just like everyone else.

Seeing him confirms her fears. There is no way to know when a mage might be possessed by a more powerful demon.

So if she slips up... if _she_ were to become possessed...

"Ah, look what we have here," Uldred muses. "I remember you two. Irving's star pupil," he says to Avina, "and the Circle's biggest troublemaker."

Daylen raises an eyebrow.

"Uldred didn't think much of you then, and I certainly don't see your appeal now," he continues.

As if noticing Avina's terror, Daylen shifts his stance so that she's mostly blocked from Uldred's view, hidden in his shadow. Her hand tightens around the Litany.

"You, sir," Daylen starts. "Have destroyed my home, murdered my friends, and turned many mages into puppets. My companions and I have killed many on our way here... abominations, blood mages, desire demons... that lovely sloth demon... Now, I'm going to kill you. And enjoy every moment as the life bleeds out of you."

Avina thinks she sees fear glint in Uldred's dark eyes. "Fight, if you must," he tries to intimidate. "It will just make my victory all the sweeter."

The abominations lunge for them just as Alistair and Griffon rush forward, protecting the mages.

It's somewhat difficult for her to fight with one hand holding the Litany. Trying to focus on what Uldred is doing as he grows into a gigantic nightmare while making sure none of her companions become too badly wounded at the same time... isn't as easy as she thought, and she hadn't thought it would be easy.

Alistair takes a bad hit to the ribs and she has to stop herself from casting a healing spell on him; Wynne already said she would handle most of the healing. She grits her teeth as Wynne's magic washes over him, and his sword goes through the stomach of an abomination.

_"Do you accept the gift that I offer?"_ Uldred's voice booms over them, amplified by the demon inside him.

She drops her staff in an instant, unfurling the scroll and reading it as loud as she can. The abominations closest to her shriek in pain, and Uldred stumbles. Avina picks up her staff again.

The fight continues. Alistair and Griffon need the most healing, but Wynne keeps up with their injuries. Morrigan laughs, and Avina nearly screams when she sees her change into a giant spider.

Of course she knew Morrigan was a shapechanger... but seeing it...

And spiders. Blech! She hates spiders.

Despite her dislike of the creatures, she cannot deny that Morrigan is quite the force with eight legs and venomous fangs.

Daylen's yell of pain jerks Avina's eyes towards him, in time to see an abomination rip it's claws out of his midsection. He cracks it in the head with his staff, but the damage has been done.

Before she realizes it, her staff lights up, and her magic races across the chamber and right into Daylen's body. His flesh knits together with the help of her magic, and for a moment he meets her eyes, looking stunned.

_"Do you accept the gift that I offer?"_

Avina screams in fury, reading off the Litany as lightning shoots out of Daylen's fingers.

Morrigan changes again, picking up her discarded staff as Uldred rounds on them. Daylen's lightning hasn't stopped, a continuous storm of mana channeling into Uldred. Uldred roars, swiping at him, but Daylen ducks to the side and Morrigan forces some of his energy out and into her body.

Uldred is moving in a flurry now, desperately trying to knock them back as they fire spell after spell. Alistair and Griffon dance around his ankles, their attacks not enough to kill him but enough to be painful. Daylen presses the attack, though she suspects he's running so low on mana he's only a few spells away from exhaustion.

The Litany renders his mind control powerless, and without it he's quickly losing strength.

Avina drops the Litanny, and with both hands sends a wave of heat so intense she fears she may be sunburned, casts an inferno that constricts around Uldred's head.

He shrieks, swatting uselessly at the flames, but they consume him.

Then, he stops struggling. His massive arms drop, his body swaying. "Get back!" Avina cries. Griffon dashes to her side and Alistair skitters a few steps back, never taking his eyes off of the creature.

The thing that used to be Uldred falls, and the floor shakes with his dead weight.

It's over.

* * *

**Alistair**

After half leading, half carrying Irving down all the ten bazillion steps that are the Circle Tower, they finally reach the doors, and when the Templars hear Irving's voice, they open.

Greagoir is there to greet them, looking happier than Alistair would have thought he would be.

"Irving?" Greagoir breathes. "Maker's breath. I did not expect to see you alive."

"It is over, Greagoir," Irving assures him. "Uldred is dead."

Cullen steps forward. "Uldred tortured these mages, hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations. We don't know how many of them have turned."

Irving turns to him. "What?! Don't be ridiculous!"

"Of course he'll say that, he might be a blood mage!" Cullen accuses. "Don't you know what they did? I won't let this happen again."

Greagoir crosses his arms. "I am the knight-commander here, not you."

"And what does the knight-commander think, then?" Daylen asks.

"We have won back the tower," Greagoir says evenly. "I will accept Irving's assurance that all is well."

"But they may have demons within them!" Cullen protests. "Lying dormant... lying in wait!"

"Enough," Greagoir commands. "I have already made my decision."

Cullen looks angry, but there is nothing he can do and he walks off, frowning deeply.

"Thank you," Greagoir says to Avina. She looks stunned, as if she thinks he means to talk to someone else. "You have proven yourself a friend of both the Circle and the Templars."

She blinks, blushes an adorable pink, and scratches the back of her head. "I... well, we need help. With the Blight."

"With the Circle restored, our duty is to watch the mages. They are free to help you, however. Go speak with them."

Avina nods.

"I must make a sweep of the tower. Please excuse me," Greagoir says politely. "And Irving? Good to have you back."

"Ah," Irving chuckles. "I'm sure we'll be at each other's throats again in no time."

Greagoir smiles and walks off.

Irving sighs. "Here we are, the tower in disarray, the Circle nearly annihilated... though it could have been much, much worse. I am glad you arrived when you did. It's almost as though the Maker Himself sent you."

He can tell she doesn't think the same, but she smiles. "I'm glad I could help."

"From your conversation with Greagoir, it seems that you came here seeking allies. The least we can do is help you against the darkspawn. I would hate to survive this only to be overcome by the Blight."

Avina looks somewhat unsure. "But there are so few mages left."

"You of all people should know that we are not to be underestimated. The mages you see here will be a great help to you. You have my word, as first enchanter. The Circle will join the Grey Wardens in the fight."

Wynne has been silent this whole time, but now she speaks up. "Irving, I have a request. I see leave to follow the Grey Wardens."

Irving's brow furrows. "Wynne... we need you here. The Circle needs you."

Wynne only smiles, shaking her head. "I appreciate the sentiment, but the Circle will do fine without me. The Circle has you. These Wardens are brave and good, and capable of great things. If they will accept my help, I will help them accomplish their goals."

"You were never one to stay in the tower when there was adventure to be had elsewhere," Irving recalls fondly.

"Why stay when I can be of service elsewhere?"

"Then I give you leave to follow the Grey Warden," he allows. "but know that you always have a place here. There is much to be done here, and I must go. You must forgive me for not being a proper host."

Before the first enchanter can walk away, Daylen stops him. "Could the Circle travel to Redcliffe to save a possessed child?"

"A child is possessed? But... killing the demon would mean killing the-" then he catches on. "Unless you intend to enter the Fade... Yes... yes, it can be done with a group of mages. I shall gather what mages I can we shall leave promptly. A life is at stake."

* * *

**Daylen**

The trip back Redcliffe is a lot more light-hearted than the trip to the Circle had been. They are triumphant, wearing their bruises and scars with pride as they make their way back, cheerful conversation in the air.

He glances at Morrigan sideways. "So I'm curious," he drawls, "did you grow up in the Wilds?"

She frowns. "Why do you ask me such questions? I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?"

He laughs. "You can probe me anytime," he says suggestively, waggling his eyebrows at her.

That earns him a small chuckled. "Beg pardon, then, while I jump for joy. What is it you asked? If I 'grew up' in the Wilds? A curious question. Where else would you picture me? For many years it was just Flemeth and I. The Wilds and it's creatures were more real to me than Flemeth's tales of the world of man. In time, I grew curious. I left the Wilds to explore what lay beyond. Never for long. Brief forays into a civilized wilderness."

"And you always returned to the Wilds?" he asks.

"Would you not do the same?" she counters. "Your world is an unforgiving and cold place. The Wilds I hail from is home to me, and I a natural denizen. For all that I had been taught, however, the truth of the civilized lands proved to be... overwhelming. I was unfamiliar with so much. So confident and bold was I, yet there was much that Flemeth could never have prepared me for."

"Very daring," Daylen comments. "That sounds like you."

She giggles. "Equal parts daring and foolhardy, perhaps. Only once was I accused of being a Witch of the Wilds, and that by a Chasind who happened to be traveling with a merchant caravan. He pointed and gasped and began shouting in his strange language, and most assumed he was casting some curse upon me. I acted the terrified girl, and naturally he was arrested."

"That was quick thinking."

"Men are always willing to believe two things about a woman," she informs him, "one, that she is weak, and two, that she finds him attractive. I played the weakling and batted my eyelashes at the captain of the guard. Child's play. The point being that I could move through human lands fairly easily. Whatever humans think a Witch of the Wild looks like, 'tis not I. Not that I did not have trouble. There are things about human society which have always puzzled me. Such as the touching; why all the touching for a simple greeting?"

He grins at her. "Were you upset by all the bad touching?"

"Hmm. At least with that sort of touching I would have been able to intuit the intent with far greater ease. There were many nuances that Flemeth could never tell me of. When to look into another's eyes, how to eat at a table, how to bargain without offending... none of these things I knew. I still do not understand it all, truth be told. But, then, I gave up long ago any hope of doing so. When I returned to the Wilds last, I swore to Flemeth that I had no intention of leaving again."

"Well," he says. "I'm glad it worked out this way, at least."

She smirks. "Yes? Let's ignore the entire darkspawn threat and the presence of a simpleton as one of your two remaining Grey Warden allies, then. Not that I lack appreciation for the intent of your comment. Thank you."

Their conversation is cut off when a woman with light brown hair in a low class red and brown dress runs up to them, looking terrified. "Oh, thank the Maker," she pants. "We need help! They attacked the wagon; please help us! Follow me! I'll take you to them!" And she doesn't even wait for them to follow her before she runs back toward where she came from.

He meets Avina's eyes, shrugs, and they follow.

As they move closer, Daylen can see an overturned wagon, and a dead ox before it. A lone man stands beside it, but he doesn't seem to belong to this scene.

For one, he's wearing armor. Secondly, he's armed. Thirdly, most merchants aren't elves with tattooed faces.

He's proven right when moments later, when the dark-skinned elf gives a signal, several people step out of hiding and into their line of sight. One of the giant trees behind them falls, forcing a few of them to jump out of the way while the elf and the woman who brought them here prepare to attack.

"The Grey Wardens die here," the elf snarls.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: The Stone Prisoner**


	15. The Stone Prisoner

**Sorry for the wait, guys.**

**This chapter was really hard to write, and I'm still not happy with it, but I'm posting it anyway. We finally meet our favorite Antivan assassin, along with a certain lovable statue...**

**Again, a HUGE thank you to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. Love you guys :)**

* * *

**Zevran**

He wakes up.

With a _bitch_ of a headache he might add, though he doesn't remember drinking last night...

His back isn't pleased with him either... probably because he's on the damned ground. Why is he here?

"Mmm... what?" he groans, finally opening his eyes. "I... oh."

Before him stands the three Grey Wardens he was tasked to kill: A tall blonde man, a tall dark-haired man, and a pretty little elven woman, along with several others who don't seem to like him very much. A mabari, a grey-haired mage woman, and a dark-haired witch.

He isn't restrained, as far as he can tell. And the only thing he's missing is his weapons. And he can understand why they'd take those; he'd tried to stab them with them. Which brings the question... why is he still alive?

"Oh. I rather thought I would wake up dead," he admits. "Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet."

"We had a few questions for you," the dark-haired Grey Warden says. That probably makes him the leader, Zevran supposes.

"Ah, so I'm to be interrogated then? Let me save you a bit of time," he offers. "My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly."

The elven woman shrugs. "I'm rather happy you failed."

Zevran grins at her. "So would I be, in your shoes. For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad bit detrimental to one's budding assassin career."

She shrugs again. "Too bad for you, then."

"Yes, it's true," he says sadly. "Too bad for me."

"And who hired you to kill us?" she asks, crossing her arms.

"A rather taciturn fellow in the capital," Zevran recalls. "Loghain, I think his name was. Yes, that's it."

The blonde fellow looks angry at this. "I knew it," he curses under his breath.

"Does that mean you are loyal to Loghain?" the elven woman continues.

"I have no idea what his issues are with you," Zevran admits. "The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes? Beyond that, no. I am not loyal to him. I was contracted to preform a service."

"And now that you've failed that service?"

Zevran chuckles. "Well, that is between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself."

She arches a fine brow at him. "And between you and me?"

"Isn't that what we're establishing now?"

A half-smile curls her lips. "Yes, I suppose so. When were you to see Loghain next?"

"I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results... if he didn't already know. If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then."

She doesn't look very happy at this. "_If_ you had failed?"

"What can I say? I'm an eternal optimist. Although the chances of succeeding at this point seem a bit slim, don't they?" He laughs. "No, I don't suppose you'd find that funny, would you?"

"How much were you paid?" The dark-haired mage asks.

"I wasn't paid anything," Zevran reveals. "The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand. Which does make me about as poor as a Chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest."

The she-elf tilts her head to the side. "Then why are you one?"

"Well," Zevran sighs, "aside from a distinct lack of ambition I suppose it's because I wasn't given much of a choice. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, or so I'm led to believe."

She looks horrified, her eyes meeting the male mage's.

"But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad," Zevran insists. "They keep one well supplied: Wine, women, men; whatever you happen to fancy. Though the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it."

"Thanks," she laughs. "I'll take that under advisement."

"You seem like a bright girl," he comments. "I'm sure you've other options."

"So why are you telling us all this?" the male mage asks.

Zevran shrugs. "Why not? I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely."

"Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?"

"Loyalty is an interesting concept," he answers. "If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further."

He looks at the elven mage for a moment, who gives a slight nod of her head. The man turns back to Zevran. "We're listening."

"Well, here's the thing," Zevran starts. "I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the type to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead."

And that's when the argument starts.

* * *

**Avina**

In the end, though Alistair and Morrigan don't agree with the decision, they take Zevran with them.

He's quite the charmer, Avina learns, as they start looking for a place to camp for the night.

"You know, I've heard stories of your Circle of the Magi," he says casually to the three Circle mages.

"Is that so?" Wynne asks, sounding confused.

"There is a Circle in my country, of course," he tells them, "but perhaps things are different here. I visited the Antivan Circle on official Crow business, once. Met a beautiful young apprentice who was very eager for a taste of the outside world..." he winks at Avina, who flushes at the implication.

"Please, _please_ get to the point," Wynne sighs.

"All I wonder is if the Templars guard the mages here as they do in Antiva. In Antiva, the Templars watch the Circle like a jealous husband guarding the chastity of a wanton bride."

Daylen lets out a bark of laughter, while Avina's brows lower.

"An interesting metaphor," Wynne grits out, "but yes, it is not too different in Ferelden."

"And is it also true," Zevran continues, "that when the moon swells to fullness, the mages of the Circle gather at the top floor of the tower and, naked under the stars, make love to each other?"

Daylen's laughter is uncontrollable now as he doubles over at the expression on Wynne's face. Even Avina has to admit it is rather priceless...

_"What?!"_ Wynne sputters, incredulous. "No! Maker's breath..."

"Oh," Zevran sighs sadly. "I found out recently that it was not true in Antiva and hoped that it would be in Ferelden. Alas."

Vulgar as he may be, Avina thinks she's found a new friend.

* * *

They reach Redcliffe in late morning, and everything appears to be under control. The villagers are all fine, and Murdock tells them they've seen no trouble from the castle since they left.

They reach the castle quickly, and they're relieved to see that the gates are still open, which means it's still under their control.

Teagan, Isolde and Jowan are in the same spot that they left them in; Avina only hopes they haven't slept there.

"Well?" Isolde asks worriedly. "What happened?"

"The mages are on their way as we speak," Daylen assures her. "They should be here soon."

Isolde almost cries with relief, all but collapsing into Teagan's arms.

* * *

In the time it takes Irving and the other Circle mages to arrive, Avina and Daylen contemplate who alone will go into the Fade and face the demon.

The trouble is, everyone is willing to go. Avina, Daylen, Morrigan, Wynne, and even Jowan have volunteered.

Jowan is counted out almost immediately. Not that he isn't capable, but he's never encountered a demon in the Fade. Sending him would be a gamble, and they can't afford that at this point.

And Wynne may be an excellent healer, but she has few primal and entropy spells.

Five minutes into the discussion, Morrigan retracts her offer, complaining that they need to make up their minds.

That leaves Daylen and Avina. They aren't exactly arguing, but as everyone is in on the conversation they can't seem to agree. Sten doesn't trust mages at all, believing they should have just killed the boy. Wynne and Leliana support Avina going, but Morrigan and Alistair think Daylen should.

"Avina is balanced," Wynne states. "She can heal herself and she knows a few primal and entropic spells."

"Daylen is a battlemage," Morrigan counters. "He can handle himself."

"Why doesn't your senior mage go?" Sten grumbles. "Your first enchanter?"

"Whoever goes into the Fade will likely encounter Connor," Leliana reminds them. "Avina is good with children."

"Be that as it may, Daylen has been a mage longer," Alistair says. "He's older and has more experience."

Avina raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn't question his choice. Only the most logical option must go, after all.

And this was how it had been going for the past half an hour.

Teagan pokes his head into the room. "The mages have arrived," he informs them.

Avina nods. "Thank you, Bann Teagan. We'll be there in a moment."

Teagan leaves, and everyone is quiet for a moment. Then Daylen claps his hands together loudly, breaking the silence and making a couple of them flinch.

"You heard him. Everyone, head over to the main hall. Avina and I will be there in a moment."

Avina blinks in surprise, glancing over at Daylen, but he won't meet her eyes. One by one, their companions leave the room. Before he leaves, Alistair squeezes her shoulder reassuringly.

When they are alone, Daylen finally turns to her. He looks worn, tired. "I want you to go into the Fade."

"What?" Avina stutters. Last she checked, Daylen didn't care for her or her skills. "Why?"

"Remember Sloth?" he asks. "He was powerful, but all we had to do was keep going until he ran out of strength. If I'm the one who goes into the Fade, I won't be able to keep up the attack if I'm injured. You, on the other hand, can keep going indefinitely. Wynne is right; you are the best choice."

Her mouth opens and shuts, but she can't speak for a few moments. "But... but-"

He grabs her by the arm and starts leading her out of the room. "Come on, then," he orders. "You've got a boy to save. Best get to it, yes?"

* * *

**Alistair**

It might be selfish of him, but Alistair doesn't want Avina going into the Fade.

It's just... he knows how it feels to be helpless while she's in danger. He doesn't like it. At _all._

So if he has the chance to keep her safe, to keep her out of danger, he's going to take it. Besides, Daylen has this covered, right? He's perfectly capable of facing down the demon. And as far as he can tell, Daylen doesn't really like her. He's always struck Alistair as an arrogant type, almost _too_ confident in his skills.

At any rate, he doesn't have anything to worry about. He hopes.

He waits in the main hall with the others. But they don't have to wait long.

Only a couple minutes or so go by before Daylen and Avina return.

Irving comes up to meet them. "Ah, there you are. We have brought lyrium and begun preparation for the ritual. We can start anytime," he tells them.

Daylen nods. "Let's do it."

"I'm glad we decided to take this route," Alistair adds. "This is really the best option."

"Very well," Irving accepts. "I assume you are going into the Fade, or did you have someone else in mind?"

Daylen shakes his head. "Avina will go into the Fade."

"What?" Alistair gasps, his stomach dropping into his feet. Everyone ignores him.

"Good," Irving says. "Let us get the ritual underway, then."

* * *

The mages are set up in a room in the castle, and no one will be allowed in until Avina returns from the Fade.

Or until she dies in the Fade, losing all magical ability and becoming Tranquil.

He can't think about that. He can't. The thought of her, emotionless, a hollow shell, never to smile or blush or joke or laugh again...

He can't.

None of her companions are allowed into the room with her, but she asks everyone for a last bit of advice.

Daylen tells her not to be fooled by the demon in Connor's form. She will do everything in her power to keep a hold of the boy, even trying to appeal to Avina's mercy. He reminds her not to show this monster a shred of it.

Wynne tells her not to accept any deals the demon may offer. They may sound grand, glamorous and tempting, but the demon is only trying to keep her thrall.

Morrigan asks her not to take too long. Avina laughs, responding with "Love you too, Morrigan."

Alistair frowns.

Griffon licks a stripe up the side of her face from her jaw to her hairline, giving an affectionate bark. She wrinkles her nose as she chuckles fondly, rubbing his belly.

Sten tells her that killing the boy would have been easier, but he admits that she is brave to try to save him.

Leliana advises her to move quickly, not staying in the same place for too long. That would make it too easy for the demon to hunt her. The two hug before Leliana leaves the room.

Alistair is last, and he still doesn't know what to say.

"Hi," she says shyly.

"Hi," he responds, scratching the back of his neck. "Just... be careful in there, all right? I'd hate to lose another Warden." _I'd hate to lose you._

She nods. "I will. I promise."

They stand there awkwardly for a moment. She glances at the door, as if she's dreading having to walk through it. He knows he is.

Before he realizes what's happening, she's thrown her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. For a few seconds he's too surprised to respond, but then he pulls her more tightly against him, resting his cheek on her head.

"Promise me you'll come back," he whispers.

Her squeezes him tightly before letting go, smiling up at him. "I promise. I'll be back before you can say darkspawn."

Then she walks back into the room and the door shuts behind her.

* * *

**Avina**

When she opens her eyes, she is alone.

With a deep breath through her mouth, she stretches her limbs and weighs her staff in her hand, making sure everything is as she remembers. With a wave of her hand, a purple glow shrouds her body in it's protective shield and a wisp forms above her, ready to aid her spells.

She is ready.

She takes off at a light jog, glancing every which way. Ghosts of Connor and Eamon seem to be everywhere, but they are just that. Ghosts. When she tries to touch one, her hand goes right through his shoulder.

She can hear Eamon crying out for his son. Connor answers with the frightened question of where he is.

When she sees the real Eamon, she approaches him.

He doesn't recognize that they're in the Fade, and he doesn't seem to realize that he and his son are in danger.

"Connor tried to save you after you were poisoned. When he did, a demon found and possessed him."

Eamon goes white. "Possessed? Then... we must help him! Is... that why you're here?"

"Yes," she promises. "I am here to help Connor escape the demon's grasp. You must trust me."

He gazes at her for a moment, scrutinizing her, and sighs. "I... I trust you. We must help my son. But I can never find him in this damnable fog. You must find him. _Please._ I beg you..."

"Listen to me, Eamon," she cautions. "When I kill the demon, Connor will wake up and you will be alone. But you mustn't lose hope; do not leave. If you do, it will mean you will die. I will save you once I am done helping Connor, I swear."

"Very well," Eamon agrees. "I will remain here, but... please save my son."

"I will not leave without him, I promise."

* * *

It feels as if she's running around in circles as sweat runs down her brow when she finally finds Connor in what appears to be a child's bedroom.

Connor's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Who are you?" he demands. Her heart sinks; this is not the true Connor. "Are you the one that made father ill? Tell me now!"

"You are not Connor. Only a demon in disguise."

He crosses his arms. "You could be a demon, too! You could be a demon that just looks like a person."

"Oh really?" she snaps back. "Do demons often hunt each other, then?"

"Fool!" the demon snarls. "You won't get near her! I won't let you!"

* * *

It is another several minutes before she finds him again.

"Why do you keep hurting me?" he asks. This cannot be Connor either. "Why are you trying to stop me?"

"Begone, demon," she commands, "and impede me no further."

"You will not find what you seek," he insists. "Turn back, now!"

She lifts her chin. "I will save Connor from her if I must tear him from her cold, dead claws."

"Tresspasser!" he cries. "I will drive you out!"

* * *

There must be many, many demons acting as Connor here, she realizes. The desire demon must have them here not only as protection, but to keep Eamon wandering the Fade.

Avina finds another in what looks to be a library.

"Father wanders, seeking me, trapped within my web. All is as it should be. Why must you interfere?"

"Because you interfere where you should not, demon," she replies.

"Connor invited her to come," the demon argues, "and they struck a bargain. She has every right to do as she wishes. No. It is time for you to go now. Do not persist, or things will go very badly for you."

She doesn't even need to say that she will not be leaving without Connor; the demon lunges forward for her, changing forms mid-flight.

* * *

Instead of finding another Connor replica, the next time she travels through a portal she walks into what can only be where the desire demon lives.

Fear clenches in her stomach, but Avina trudges forward to meet her anyway, purpose in every step.

"Well, well," the demon greets, her clawed hands sweeping over her lovely curves. "At last we meet face-to-face, little blood mage."

Avina's eyes widen. "I am not... I'm not a blood-"

The demon cuts her off with a laugh. "Don't lie to me, blood mage. I can see it on your soul. You may not use it, but you have the capability, don't you?"

Avina grits her teeth, choosing not to answer.

"I have no wish to fight you," the demon informs her. "Perhaps we could converse instead?"

"There will be no discussion," Avina refuses firmly, shifting her stance.

"Alas," the demon sighs. "That is sad. Very well then, if you wish a battle, you will have it. Let us see if you power matches your boldness, creature."

* * *

**Alistair**

Alistair taps his foot as he sits in one of the chairs outside the door. Before him, Teagan paces the floor while Isolde wrings a silk handkerchief.

Griffon lays just outside the door, his ears as close as possible without the possibility of getting hit if it were to open. Leliana sits beside him, stroking his fur.

"You are such a handsome dog," she tells him. "I think that every time I look at you."

Griffon's stubby tail wags and he gives a happy bark.

"Lady Cecilie - I lived with her after my mother died - had a dog. A small one, bred to fit under the arm and in the lap," she recalls. "What did she call it? Oh, yes. Bon-Bon. Bon-Bon was a terror. He would hide, you know, when he saw you coming... And then he would attack your ankles. Razor-sharp teeth in the ankles... very painful.

"He attacked me once," she continues. "Latched onto my leg. I thought it was a diseased rat and kicked. Bon-Bon flew across the room and over the banister. He survived, but he never came near me after that."

Griffon makes a huffing sound, and the room once more goes quiet.

Alistair counts the taps of his foot, trying to think of anything other than what they faced at the Circle.

_Tap tap tap._

Or what's happening in the Fade right now.

_Tap tap tap._

With Eamon's son.

_Tap tap tap._

And -

The door slams open, scaring everyone in the room. Griffon, Leliana, and Alistair leap to their feet. Teagan whirls around. Isolde barely manages to cover her mouth before she screams.

When Alistair sees her in the doorway, smiling, breathing hard, alive and well, he can't stop the relieved grin that spreads across his face.

"It's done," she says simply.

* * *

**Shale**

Shale did not expect this.

These... darkspawn creatures don't seem interested in Shale; but the villagers are chased into their homes, killed, and mounted on spikes or hung around the village as if on display.

How amusing.

It's the first change Shale has seen in a long time. It is a welcome one, especially if it brings justice to the moronic humans who deserve it.

But even this grows boring after a time. The darkspawn only care about one thing: killing. True, the humans weren't much different, so dreadfully simple, so horribly squishy.

Shale wonders how long it will take for either the darkspawn to destroy everything, or for someone to come to fight them.

As it turns out, the latter happens first.

A group of squishy creatures - mostly mages, ironically - make their way through the village after a while, killing every darkspawn in their way. Four mages, two warriors, two rogues, and a dog.

Hopefully this one will keep it's urine to itself.

Shale doesn't remember ever seeing such battle prowess from flesh creatures. The larger warrior, especially, with it's greatsword and gray skin.

Eventually every darkspawn that was outside lies slain, and two of the mages approach Shale. The taller one pulls out something long and skinny; something Shale recognizes as a control rod.

"Dulef gar," it calls.

Nothing happens.

"Curse that merchant..." it hisses under it's breath while the others scratch their heads and look around.

"Maybe the rod is broken," the smaller mage says.

"We should check the houses anyway. If anyone survived, that's where they'll be," the taller mage states, and the group leaves.

And just when Shale was becoming entertained.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Andraste's Ashes**


	16. Andraste's Ashes

**I sort of lied; they don't find the ashes in this chapter. Too much dialogue. I spent a lot of time trying to stuff the temple into this chapter, but eventually gave up because I'm tired.**

**So here we go. Another chapter. Leave me a review, and I'll love you forever.**

* * *

**Shale**

Shale finds them very odd, the Grey Wardens' group.

Obviously, they aren't very wise to embark on the Grey Wardens' quest with them. Shale joined because stone does not die, cannot die. Shale does not risk death, but they do.

Not only that, but they seem very gullible. Most of them appear to believe in this thing called 'the Maker'. And they want to use the burnt remains of His bride's corpse to heal their ally.

Shale doesn't understand, but will follow nevertheless.

By the time they reach camp, Shale has given most of them nicknames. The gray haired one with red robes who often heals the group is the elder mage. The dark-haired one with yellow eyes is the swamp witch. The dark-skinned tattooed elf with the strange accent is the painted elf, and if what Shale hears is true it tried to kill the Wardens. Hmm. It really must be asked about that.

"So," Shale states. "Here is a question for the painted elf."

The painted elf looks around, as if wondering to whom Shale is speaking. "Painted elf... oh, that's me! I do like that."

Not that Shale was seeking it's approval. "The painted elf attacked the Grey Warden, and yet it still lives," Shale reminds it. "Had the decision been mine, it's skull would be pulp right now."

The painted elf grins, shrugging it's small shoulders. "Oh, I don't know. Could you destroy something as pretty as I am, hmm?

"Easily," Shale deadpans. "I fail to see how any measure of attractiveness would make one difficult to crush."

"Perhaps you do not know how to look, then," the painted elf suggests. "Look at the witch. Dark eyes, heaving chest, quivering lips. How could one kill such a creature without bedding it, first?"

The swamp witch glares at them. "How relieved I am."

"Here, take that Templar fellow," the painted elf continues. "Rugged good looks, quick wit, manly shoulders. Just getting him to hop borders is a challenge worthy of the great heroes."

The 'Templar fellow' looks over at them incredulously. Perhaps that is what Shale will call it. "A challenge? I'd happily hop borders, given the chance. I've never even been close to leaving Ferelden."

Shale might be ignorant to the ways of these fleshy things, but Shale assumes the painted elf did not mean literally.

"Take the innocent sister, for example. Certainly even _you _can see the naughty woman waiting to escape from that Chantry frock!"

The sister lifts it's head as if hearing it's name. "Mm? That's odd... I could've sworn I heard an insignificant man talking about my undergarments."

Perhaps Shale and the sister will get along well enough.

"Take a peek at that Circle mage. Must we speak of the allure of an older woman? She has lessons to teach us all, my friend."

The elder mage crosses it's arms, giving the painted elf a stern look. "You have no idea, little elf. Keep your imaginary hands to yourself."

The painted elf ignores the elder mage. "Take a long look at those two Grey Wardens, my good friend. Right there we have objects worthy of worship, no? One would have to be blind not to realise how very pretty we all are and how important that is to preserve."

"Hmph." Shale huffs. "Perhaps there are definitions of "blind" I have yet to understand."

* * *

**Avina**

Avina doesn't like the looks Daylen's been sending her since the Circle tower.

Not that he's obnoxious about it. At first, she barely noticed it. But now, as time goes on, it's becoming more and more distracting.

It doesn't get better when they reach camp. In fact, he insists to take her to see Bodahn's wares. Alone. She doesn't know whether to be pleased or scared.

But as soon as they're out of earshot from the group, Daylen turns to her, forcing her to a stop. He crosses his arms.

"So..." He starts, giving her a look that she knows means trouble. "Your nightmare. In the Fade. Would you mind explaining that to me?"

_Shit._

"I... I-" she stammers. "I thought I was in Jowan's place, at Redcliffe."

"Yes," Daylen agrees. "But why would you fear being captured and branded a Maleficar?"

Avina's mouth snaps shut. She's not prepared; she has no way of answering without giving away her secret.

"I had a feeling you were hiding something," Daylen laughs, snapping his fingers at her. Avina blinks in surprise. What...?

"What?"

"Jowan taught you, didn't he?" Daylen guesses, narrowing his eyes. At her shocked expression, he nods as if expecting this. "I thought so. Being as close as you two were, I should have guessed so sooner."

Avina's mouth opens and closes as she tries to find a way to deny it, to make him quiet, something. "I-"

"The only thing that baffles me," he continues as if he can't hear her. "Why haven't you used it? To fight? You're a Grey Warden now. The Templars have no authority over you."

"I can't," she finally blurts. "I have no idea what happens when you use it for the first time. It might be dangerous; what if I was possessed? I _can't_."

"But that's not the only reason."

Damnit. When did he become so good at reading her?

Avina sighs, burying her face in her hands. "No, it's not."

She jumps when a weight falls on her shoulder, but it's only his hand. "I know," he says quietly. "He was a Templar, after all. You think he wouldn't accept you, if he knew."

"Yes." There's no point in denying it.

Daylen retracts his hand, and Avina looks up at him as he shrugs. "I suspect it will come up sooner or later. Anyway, that's all I really wanted to ask. I think we need more elfroot," he trails off, wandering over towards Bodahn.

Avina pauses, then follows.

He is definitely odd, she thinks. But he's honest, and most of the time he's right.

But she still thinks he was a jerk while they lived in the Circle.

* * *

**Daylen**

It's become a habit of Daylen's to make his way to Morrigan's secluded tent every night to speak to her. Now, he does it without thinking.

It looks as if Morrigan is waiting for him as he approaches. She stands outside her tent, throwing him a devious smile when he comes to stand before her.

She lifts her eyebrows and pouts. "'Tis cold in my tent, all alone."

Were Daylen another man, he might not understand her meaning. Her tent is before her own campfire. She's well supplied with firewood and she has her own furs. They live in Ferelden for the Maker's sake, and she was raised in the Korcari Wilds. She's prepared for the cold.

But Daylen is not another man.

A feral grin spreads across his face. "Oh?" he responds. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

Morrigan shifts, placing a hand at her hip, making her posture more... open. She smirks back at him. "Why, it just so happens that I find you... quite warm," she says suggestively.

He chuckles. "Let's see this tent of yours, then."

"So you shall come to my tent?" She asks innocently. "But what_ever_ shall we do in that tiny little space together while we wait for it to warm?"

He leans closer. "I'm sure I'll think of something," he murmurs, letting his breath float over her lips.

"Good," she replies, "then let us waste no more time with foolish talk."

* * *

**Alistair**

A few of the others in camp have been giving Alistair strange looks. He doesn't know whether to be irritated by it, or terrified.

Honestly, he's kind of both.

Wynne looks at him like that cat that swallowed the pigeon. She looks as if she knows something that he doesn't. It's unnerving.

Leliana keeps giving him these smiles, looking from him to Avina and back like she thinks they're adorable.

Originally, Zevran was admiring the two leaders with great interest, until he noticed Alistair's scowl. Since then, he's been looking at Alistair with a knowing smirk.

Shale is... rather disquieting. The golem says what it thinks, when it thinks so, uncaring of the feelings of others.

"The former Templar has become very close with the other Grey Warden," Shale says to him as they pack up to head to Denerim.

"Uh..." he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. He can only assume Shale means Avina. "yes, I suppose I have at that."

"I find this difficult to comprehend," Shale states, looking at him coldly. "It is whiny and weak and constantly laughing."

Alistair crosses his arms. "Then I guess a romance between you and I is completely out of the question?"

Shale ignores this comment. "And the attempts at humor. I cannot understand how it is endured."

"Well," Alistair snaps, "maybe you should ask her why she likes me so much instead of bothering me with it."

"It has a loud mouth," Shale complains. "Why it's head has not been crushed already is hard to imagine."

"Or maybe you just happen to figure she likes me a lot more than she likes you," Alistair sneers back.

"Don't be foolish," Shale grumbles, but looks away.

Alistair laughs. "Yes, I thought so. Just watch your step or I'm totally telling."

Shale huffs in anger, marching away. "I'm going to stand over here now."

Alistair is feeling rather proud of himself right about then, when Avina walks by. Her hair is unbound, and this sight is so strange to him that he can't help but stare. He's never seen it down before; he notices now that it's so long that it reaches her waist in waves from the braids.

She glances over her shoulder at him. "Good morning, Alistair," she says cheerfully, giving him a sweet smile. He barely manages to nod back before she walks over to Leliana.

Have her hips always swayed like that?

Somewhere behind him, he hears Wynne chuckle. He whirls around, only to see her giving him the same face she'd been giving him before.

"Why are you smiling like that?" He asks her suspiciously. "You look suspiciously like the cat who swallowed the pigeon."

"Canary," she corrects.

"What?"

"I look like the cat that swallowed the canary."

Alistair frowns. Somehow this reminds him of the cat he had at Redcliffe, once. "I once had a very large cat, but that's not my point. My point is why are you smirking?"

She chuckles. "You were watching her," she informs him. "With great interest, I might add. In fact, I believe you were... enraptured."

"She's our leader. I look to her for guidance," he defends.

"Oh, I see. So what guidance did you find in those swaying hips, hmm?" she replies, amused

Alistair flushes scarlet. "No no no, I wasn't looking at... you know, her... hind-quarters!" Was he? No, he wasn't! Okay, maybe a little...

"Certainly," Wynne says. She's still accusing him, though. He can tell.

"I gazed... - glanced! - in that direction, _maybe_, but I wasn't staring. Or really seeing anything, even."

"Of course," she agrees. That look has not left her face, however.

Alistair scowls. "I hate you. You're a bad person."

Wynne just laughs.

And for one horrifying moment, he thinks he sees Avina looking his way as if listening. But when he looks up, she's not.

Is it his imagination, or has she turned her back more towards him with her hip popped out?

Bah! He shakes his head, stomping off to collect his things.

* * *

**Daylen**

Ah.

In the morning, Daylen exits Morrigan's tent with an arrogant smile the size of an archdemon. Not two feet behind him, Morrigan follows, a similar expression on her lips.

"I see the stories they tell of Grey Warden endurance are not exaggerated," she notes as he turns to face her.

He arches a brow. "Oh? There are stories?"

She chuckles. "Indeed there are. The unanswered question, of course, is whether the endurance exists because of the taint within you or because the Grey Wardens are by nature so very... healthy. I enjoy the thought that 'tis a little of both. Natural prowess, driven by a darker side."

Daylen laughs quietly, nodding in agreement. "So, what now?" He doesn't want to ask this question, really, but he doesn't want to assume anything. He likes her. He doesn't want to leave this here, as they say. Not that he wants more, necessarily, because he doesn't really. It must be asked.

She crosses her arms. "That is entirely up to you. Simply know that I have no designs over your independence. I wish only to do what I desire, and if that coincides with what you desire... then so be it."

Daylen's arms fold behind his back.

Morrigan's lips press together. "And should you decide not to continue our... misadventure, then so be it. Very simple, is it not?"

Hm. He gets the feeling that is not what she wants.

"I can live with that," he tells her. And he can.

She smiles brightly. "Then we shall get along marvelously. Come, then, let us be off before the others begin to stare."

* * *

**Alistair**

They've been on the road for over an hour, and Alistair has effectively kept his eyes away from her. He's rather proud of himself, actually. He's been looking straight ahead for the entire journey so far.

However, this also means that the group is almost completely silent. The two of them are usually the ones who keep conversation going, and since he can't look her in the eye it's so quiet he thinks it's grating on everyone's nerves.

At times like this, he misses Duncan so much it hurts.

Even Daylen, who'd been grinning from ear to ear earlier this morning (from his time in Morrigan's tent, no doubt), isn't immune to the souring of the atmosphere.

Now, he and Zevran walk beside Alistair while Morrigan, Wynne, and Sten take front guard, with Leliana, Shale, and Avina guarding the rear.

But... wait. Zevran seems like the type of man who has... experience. With women. So, he knows how women work? Or, how... wooing works?

He doesn't want to think about the time he asked Leliana for advice; _that_ could have gone better.

"So," Alistair says casually.

Zevran gives him a long look. "So?"

"Do you mind if... if I ask you a personal question?"

Zevran shrugs. "You may ask, but I may choose not to answer."

"Fair enough," Alistair accepts. "Have you... had very many women in your time? I mean... you seem like the sort of man who would..."

"I have indulged from time to time, perhaps, when my interest is not elsewhere."

"Right." Alistair scratches the back of his neck. "Well, how do you... woo them? Is there a... technique? Or..."

""Woo them?"" Zevran asks, incredulous. "Are you quite serious?"

"Er... yes? I don't know what else to call it."

"So let me get this straight," Zevran says. "You have... never wooed? Not once? You are woo-less, as it were?"

Alistair sighs in defeat. "All right. Bad idea. Never mind."

And it's quiet once more.

When they finally stop for a break, Daylen approaches him.

"I'm just going to stop you right there, Alistair," Daylen interrupts, "and tell you to just kiss her."

_"What?!"_

Daylen looks back at him innocently. "What? It's obvious that this is where it's going. Just go over there, say something sappy, and kiss her. You two are driving everyone mad with your ridiculous pining."

Alistair's mouth opens and shuts so much he suspects he looks like a fish; but he can't not say something, and he doesn't know what to say to that.

Daylen sighs, grabbing him by the front of his chainmail. "Get over there, you coward," he commands, shoving him towards Avina.

* * *

**Avina**

"You have such beautiful hair," Leliana croons as she runs her fingers through it. "My hair never looks good this long."

"I'm sure that's not true," Avina disagrees. "You're always so lovely."

"Why does it have so much hair?" Shale asks. "It has no uses fighting. Perhaps it can be used as rope?"

Leliana laughs. "No, Shale. We grow our hair because it's pretty. Like your crystals."

At this, Shale looks down at the enchanted light blue of her augmentation crystals in pride.

They really do look good on her; if she were actually a statue, she'd be a great work of art.

Then Alistair is stumbling towards them, the most adorable pinkness in his cheeks, and Leliana spouts out an excuse to leave and hurries off. Shale takes one look at Alistair, lifts her stone nose, and stomps away.

"Hi, Alistair," she greets.

"I'd like to ask you something," he tells her. "So all this time we've spent together, you know: the tragedy, the brushes with death, the constant battles with the whole Blight looming over us... will you miss it, once it's over?"

Avina shrugs her shoulders. "I'm sure there will always be more battles to fight somewhere."

"But... that doesn't mean we would necessarily be fighting them together," he says, somewhat sadly. "I know it... might sound strange, considering we haven't known each other for very long, but I've come to... care for you. A great deal. I think maybe it's because we've been through so much together, I don't know. Or maybe I'm imagining it. Maybe I'm fooling myself." He looks at her hopefully. "Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you might ever... feel the same way about me?"

She can't breathe. "I already do," she tells him quietly, looking up at him through her lashes.

His face warms with his smile. "So I fooled you, did I? Good to know."

And suddenly he's cupping her cheek in his palm, and the world slows to a standstill as he brings his lips to hers.

* * *

**Alistair**

Her arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair to pull her body to his. He almost can't think through the fact that he's kissing her, and that she's letting him, and she fits against him perfectly with her strange height and slim body.

She shivers and sighs against him, and he swears he could die a happy man.

He doesn't ever want this to end, to let her go, but he must if he wants to keep breathing.

They pull away from each other until they're inches apart, panting for breath.

"That," he whispers. "That wasn't too soon, was it?"

She grins. "I don't know," she says teasingly. "I need more testing to be sure."

Maker's breath.

He grins back at her. "I'll have to arrange that, then, won't I?"

She laughs, her silvery blue eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.

"Maker's breath, but you're beautiful," he breathes. "I am a lucky man. Now..." he clears his throat. "Let's get back to... what we were up to before. Lest I forget why we're here."

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Haven**


	17. Haven

**Sorry for the delay. Can't say it won't happen again, as I'm rather busy, but I'll do my best to keep posting in a timely manner.**

* * *

**Morrigan**

Whatever was wrong in the beginning of the journey has been righted, and thankfully everyone is in a good mood when they finally reach Denerim the next day.

"Ah, Denerim," Alistair comments as they approach the marketplace. "They say you can get anything here. I once got pick-pocketed."

Avina laughs, giving him that adoring look she reserves for him.

Ugh. The cuteness of those two is disgusting.

For a moment, she catches Daylen's eye. He gives her a knowing smirk, throwing a wink in her direction. Morrigan smiles sultrily back, tossing her hair to the side. She's already looking forward to seeing him again tonight...

Wait... what was she thinking about, again?

Then, as if he thinks he hasn't caused enough mischief, the dog dashes off into market at a pace none of them can hope to match. Well, apart from the giant.

Everyone looks at Avina, who shrugs, still grinning at that oaf. "I guess he's just going off to do some shopping."

And the sad part is, she's not wrong. A few moments later her comes back; with a new companion.

The small boy claps his hands. "Puppy!"

Griffon barks and wags his tail hopefully, as if to say "Can I keep him?"

Avina shakes her head at him. "If he comes with us, he's going to have to fight darkspawn."

Griffon gives an argumentative bark.

"I know he's too young," Avina replies. "That's my point."

Griffon hangs his large head sadly, and leads the boy back into market.

Morrigan rolls her eyes. The dog's with them, and yet Alistair is still the dumbest one in the party.

The group walks towards the left side of the marketplace, when suddenly Alistair turns towards an ill-kept shack of a house. The sign on the door says 'Linen Washing'.

"That's..." he gasps. "My sister's house. I'm almost sure of it, this is... yes, this is the right address. She could be inside. Could we... go and see?"

Daylen nods, while Avina looks confused.

"You have a sister?"

Daylen sighs. "Long story short, met the demon version of her in the Fade with Alistair, he learned where she lived, here we are."

Alistair looks nervous. "Will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist? My sister. That sounds very strange... "sister." "Siiiissster." Hmm. Now I'm babbling. Maybe we should go. Let's go. Let's just... go."

Daylen sighs again. "Just open the door and get in there."

Alistair turns to Avina. "Would you... come with me? Please."

She gapes at him. "Me? But... I..." he gives her a look of desperation, and she lets out a huff of air. "If you like."

The three leave the rest of them outside. Daylen goes in first, Alistair and Avina follow silently.

* * *

**Avina**

Her palms sweat, and she wipes them on her skirts as they pass through the doorway. She feels as if her heart is beating out of her chest. People don't always treat elves kindly; and not only is she an elf, but a _mage_ as well. What if his sister doesn't like her? What if she doesn't approve?

What if she does?

Her stomach has tied itself into dozens of knots by the time Alistair leads her inside.

He looks just as terrified as she feels; this makes her feel somewhat better and she smiles at him reassuringly.

He swallows. "Er... Hello?"

A woman comes around the corner, looking to be about in her early thirties with dull brown hair and a wrinkle between her brows. "Eh? You have linens to wash?" She looks the three of them over. "I charge three bits on the bundle, you won't find better. And don't trust what that Natalia woman tells you either, she's foreign and she'll rob you blind."

"I'm... not here to have any wash done," he tells her. "My name's Alistair. I'm... well, this might sound a little strange, but, are you Goldanna? If so, I suppose I'm your brother."

The woman's eyes narrow and she frowns, looking them over once more. Her eyes linger on Alistair and Avina's closeness. "My what? I am Goldanna, yes... how do you know my name? What kind of tomfoolery are you folk up to?"

Avina takes a step back. "Maybe... maybe you should be left alone?"

"No!" Alistair protests. "No, don't go! I..." he shakes his head. "Please, stay for now."

Avina bites her lip, still uncertain, but doesn't walk out.

Alistair turns back towards Goldanna. "Look, our mother... she worked as a servant in Redcliffe Castle a long time ago, before she died. Do you know about that? She -"

"You!" Goldanna explodes. "I knew it! They told me you was dead! They told me the babe was dead along with mother, but I knew they was lying!"

"They told you I was dead? Who?" Alistair demands. "Who told you that?"

"Them's at the castle! I told them the babe was the king's, and they said he was dead. Gave me a coin to shut my mouth and sent me on my way! I knew it!"

"I'm sorry," Alistair apologizes. "I... didn't know that. The babe didn't die. I'm him; I'm... your brother."

Goldanna just scoffs at him. "For all the good it does me! You killed mother, you did, and I've had to scrape by all this time? That coin didn't last long, and when I came back they ran me off!"

"But that was hardly Alistair's fault," Avina protests, unable to keep silent any longer.

Goldanna turns her fierce gaze on her. "And who in the Maker's name are _you?_ Some elfy tart, following and carrying his riches?"

At once, Alistair steps protectively in front of Avina. "Hey! Don't speak to her that way! She's my friend, and a Grey Warden, just like me."

Goldanna crosses her arms and sneers. "Ooohh, I see. A prince, and a Grey Warden, too. Well, who am I too think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to me? I don't know you, boy. Your royal father forced himself on my mother and took her away from me. And what do I have to show for it? _Nothing_. They tricked me good! I should have told everyone! I got five mouths to feed, and unless you can help with that, I got less than no use for you."

Alistair's shoulders sag, and it makes Avina angry. Alistair always wanted to help everyone, to do the right thing, and this woman is making him feel guilty about something that he has no control over. It makes her want to slap her. This surprises her; Avina never consciously chose to fight, she's usually forced. Not only that, but she's spent less than five minutes with this woman.

"I... I'm sorry," he says again. "I... I don't know what to say."

This entire time, Daylen has watched silently, but now he steps forward threateningly with an expression like a thundercloud. "You have some nerve talking to your family like this," he snarls. "Whose fault is it that you have five mouths anyway, hmm? You're nothing but a money-grubbing _bitch_."

"Daylen!" Avina cries. He may not be the kindest man, but he has never been like _this_ before.

His eyes are blazing as he faces her. _"What?"_ he snaps. "She created the mess she's in, and expects others to pull her out of it? She could give a shit that she has a brother; all she wants is his bloody money!"

Alistair looks so lost. He looks as if he wants to protest to Daylen's treatment of Goldanna, but can't find a reason to stop him.

Goldanna looks as if she might have steam come out of her ears. "Get out of my house! All of you!"

He looks down in surprise as Avina interlocks their fingers. "Alistair," she whispers. "Let's just go."

They leave without another word.

* * *

Daylen is furious, and Alistair is bewildered as they walk back outside.

"That was... not what I expected, to put it lightly," Alistair murmurs. "This is the family I've been wondering about all my life? That shrew is my sister? I can't believe it. I... I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question. Isn't that what family is supposed to do? I... I feel like a complete idiot."

"Everyone is out for themselves," Daylen spits. "You should all learn that."

Avina can't bring herself to say a word.

"I suppose you're right," Alistair agrees. "I should. Let's just go. I don't want to talk about this any more."

* * *

**Daylen**

His fists are still clenching and unclenching from their encounter with Alistair's wench of a sister.

"That should be his house," Avina tells him quietly. She must be trying hard not to provoke him. He'll have to apologize later, if he remembers. And cares.

He practically kicks the door open and marches inside.

"What are you doing here?"

The man inside does not look like a scholar. Too young. He's rather scrawny with short black hair and the slightest bit of a goatee on his chin.

Daylen is not in the mood for games. "Who are you?"

The man shifts from foot to foot. "My name is... Weylon. I am the assistant of the scholar Brother Genitivi. This is his house."

"Where is he?" Daylen asks impatiently. "I'm looking for him."

"That makes two of us," Weylon says. "I haven't seen Brother Genitivi in weeks. He's sent no word. It's so unlike him. I'm afraid something has happened. Genitivi's research into the Urn may have led him into danger."

Avina tilts her head to the side, the way she does when she's confused. "Do you think he's in trouble because of the Urn?"

"Perhaps the Urn has been lost for a reason. I pray for Genitivi's safety, but hope dwindles with each passing day. I - I tried to send help, but some knights came from Redcliffe looking for him not long ago. I sent them after Genitivi and they too have disappeared."

Hm. For some reason, Daylen does not like this man, doesn't trust him. He doesn't sound like a scholar's assistant. Assistants usually support their bosses, yes? Why doesn't Weylon?

"How do you know they disappeared?" Daylen demands.

Weylon blinks. "Well, they... haven't returned, and they sent no word, either," he stutters.

This Weylon is starting to look rather suspicious. "Are you so close to the knights? Why send _you_ word?" Daylen asks, crossing his arms.

"I... I don't know. After what happened to Genitivi, can you blame me for thinking the same thing could happen to the knights? Perhaps I am just a pessimist. I hope I am wrong."

_Wait._

Daylen puts a hand over his eyes. Dear Maker. What happened to Genitivi...

The knights are almost definitely dead.

He supposes he's lucky that this man is so transparent. Had it been someone like Morrigan or Leliana, they'd likely have been sent on a wild goose chase.

"I don't know why you're here, Weylon," Daylen says slowly. "If that's your real name. But you're going to tell me, or I'm going to decorate the far wall with your insides."

* * *

It's a shame, really; they could have tortured the information out of him. Give Morrigan five minutes alone with him and she would've had him spilling his guts. In more ways than one.

Too late now. Daylen steps over his body uncaringly, wiping imaginary dust from his shoulder, and heads into the back room.

There's a body in the corner, covered by a sheet; Daylen doesn't really want to know whose. He goes straight over to the chest, where they find Genitivi's notes. Daylen takes them, and Avina takes the steel symbol of Andraste and gives it to Leliana.

"Hmm," Daylen muses. "So Genitivi is here, then?" He points to the map in the notes. _Haven._

"Let me see." Avina leans in. "It's not on our map."

"It's all we have to go on," Daylen points out sharply. Avina gives him a hard look, and he drops his head. Truly, they have done nothing to warrant his anger; it isn't their fault.

"I'll meet you back at camp," he grumbles, and he leaves without another word.

* * *

**Avina**

Instead of heading right back to camp like Daylen, Avina convinces the others to look for supplies while they're here.

Leliana and Zevran end up going to Wade's Emporium together, while Sten goes alone to visit Gorim's stall. Shale, Griffon, and Alistair join Morrigan and Avina in The Wonders of Thedas.

Alistair mentions Arl Eamon getting him a miniature golem doll; Avina makes a mental note to check for them while they're here.

There are many staves and sets of robes there, as it's not likely that they have many customers apart from mercenary groups. A matching set of Tevinter robes catch her eye, one for a man, the other for a woman; together, they cost about ten sovereigns. She frowns slightly when she notices the low V-neck of the woman's robe, but when she touches the silky fabric she can feel the power of it's enchantment.

She can't help herself, she buys them both. Daylen needs more than one set of robes anyway; and the ones he has still have holes from when they'd been shot by the darkspawn.

And maybe she can't help but hope it will put him in a better mood.

Once she's bought the robes, she quietly asks the Tranquil Proprietor if they sell miniature golem dolls.

"I am afraid we have none in stock at the moment," he says tonelessly. "If you like, I can place an order, and have some in by the end of the month."

Avina smiles kindly at him. "That would be great, thank you."

She leaves with a skip in her step, the robes packaged in her arms.

Everyone meets back up in the center of the market. Sten has gotten nothing, while the two rogues emerge with new, better looking armor. Then together, they make their way back to camp.

* * *

**Daylen**

For some time, he simply sits in his tent; thinking to himself. He stares at the flaps of the tent before him, his eyes dull and unseeing as he waits for the others to return.

The truth is, Daylen has no clue who is family is and where they are. He was cut off from them when he was sent to the tower. All he knows is that he was a part of a noble family originally from Kirkwall. He barely remembers his mother; she was beautiful, with long dark hair and a kind smile. When they took him from her, she screamed and cried, begging them to leave him alone, to let him stay with her.

He hasn't seen her since.

He doesn't remember his father, and he doesn't know if he has siblings. But he knows that if he did, and that sibling approached him, he would have accepted them.

It isn't fair, he rages. Alistair is a nice man. He's a good friend, a good fighter, if a little... unintelligent. The fact that Goldanna rejected him boggles him. It makes him wonder, is that how some of his family would react if they found him?

Doesn't one owe their own blood some acceptance?

He hates her, this Goldanna. She got herself pregnant time after time, and she expects others to want to help her? Cold-hearted _bitch._

His thoughts are cut off when Griffon's barking catches his attention. When he emerges from his tent, they are settling back in for the night, preparing for the trip.

Alistair sits alone by the fire, staring into the flames. Leliana has changed armor, Daylen notices. Avina comes right up to him with a bundle in her arms, and before he can ask what she's doing she hands it to him.

"I found these in The Wonders of Thedas," she explains. "Thought you might want them."

Unfolding them, he realizes what they are.

Robes. Tevinter robes.

_Enchanted_ Tevinter robes, he notices as they glimmer slightly in his hands.

Stunned, he looks up at her. "You bought me Tevinter robes?"

She smiles wryly. "Why no, I stole them. I hid them behind my ear and walked right out."

"Ha ha," he comments, raising an eyebrow. "Your glibness does you credit."

He does appreciate it. He doesn't remember anyone every buying him something so thoughtfully practical. "Thank you," he tells her. And for once, he actually means it.

"You're welcome," she replies, then spins off to do whatever it is she does in the camp.

And Daylen thinks he might actually like her.

* * *

**Alistair**

He wakes up feeling much better.

It was much warmer in the camp last night, and it's relatively dry this morning, so Alistair is in a good mood as he packs up to leave.

He notices Avina's absence only a few seconds before she returns.

And wearing a different outfit.

A _very_ different outfit.

Almost as soon as he looks, he's jerking his eyes away, his cheeks flushing. The robes she now wears cover much less then her original robes did. Now her legs are on display, and the v on her chest shows him more than he's ever seen of her.

Oh, Maker.

And then she's skipping up to him, her chest... bouncing with each step. Are they supposed to do that? "Hi, Alistair," she greets cheerfully. As if she isn't bloody killing him right now. She wipes absently at her shoulder and gives a twirl to show him every angle. "Do you like it?"

It takes him a few minutes to speak. "Um..."

She cocks her head to the side, glancing down at her chest. "What, is there a bug on me?"

From across the camp, Daylen bursts into laughter.

* * *

**Avina**

When they finally reach the place on the map, a place that does in fact exist, it is eerily quiet.

Haven. At last.

As Daylen leads them in, Avina can feel cold dread settle in her gut.

Something is not right here.

Almost no one is out and about. Only a woman, and a young boy with dark hair. For the number of houses there are, this is very strange. There should be a couple dozen people at least; where are they?

"Come, come, bonny Lynne; tell us, tell us where you've been," the child speaks, playing with something in his hands.

Cautiously, Avina approaches him. "Hello."

He turns, hiding his hands behind his back. "Who are you? You shouldn't be here."

"You look like a clever boy," she says gently, "what can you tell me about this place?"

The boy shrugs. "Haven is Haven. But I have a secret. Do you want to see?"

"Okay," Avina responds, leaning down.

He brings his hands in front of him, opening them for her to see.

She gasps.

There, in the child's hand, is a human finger bone.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: The Gauntlet**


	18. The Gauntlet

**Here we go. Another chapter. **

**Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites, and follows, guys. You brighten my day.**

**This might be pretty confusing to one who hasn't played the game.**

* * *

**Daylen**

"Stop! You will go no further!"

"Really," Daylen drawls, casually tossing his staff between his hands slowly, threateningly.

He has to admit, the whole setup is rather impressive. An unknown town on top of a mountain, a temple above that, large enough to house dragonlings comfortably. You don't see that every day.

Avina steps up next to him, eyes narrowing as she looks this man right in the eye. "Who are you?"

She's become bolder, Daylen notices, since the beginning. She's less timid.

She's more confident in her skills, he realizes. It suits her.

The man in the silverite armor with the dark beard, the one who'd stopped them, lifts his nose. "You do not have the right to demand my name. You have defiled our temple. You have spilled the blood of the faithful, and slaughtered our young."

Wait, 'our young'? They hadn't killed any children...

The only 'young' Daylen can think of are the dragonlings, babies large enough to kill oxen.

What in the _Void-_

"No more," the man continues, approaching them. "You will tell me now, intruder, why you have done all this. Why have you come here?"

"We're here for the Urn of Sacred Ashes," Avina declares.

The man's eyebrows lower. "You did this all for an ancient relic? Know this, stranger..." He turns, and walks toward the end of the cave, where light from outside is streaming in. "The prophet Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned to Her faithful in a form more radiant than you can imagine!"

Avina bites her lip, meeting Daylen's gaze. He shrugs, and just mouths 'I'll handle this'.

"Not even the Tevinter Impirium could hope to slay her now! What hope do you have?" He turns back, and walks back to his original place.

Daylen sighs. "And what of the Ashes? Where are they now?"

"They are still within this temple," the man answers, "but why do we need ashes when we serve the risen Andraste in all Her glory?"

"Can you give me the Urn, then?" Daylen asks.

The man crosses his arms. "So you are after the Ashes. Hmm, perhaps there is a way for you to make up for your desecration of our home and temple."

He and Avina share another worried glance. "Why do you suddenly want to cooperate with us?"

"It may be because I believe in second chances," the strange man replies. "All of us stumble through the darkness before being found and shown the light. Perhaps, through Andraste's mercy, Her greatest enemy will become Her greatest champion."

"Just say what you have to say."

"Allow me to introduce myself: I am Father Kolgrim. I lead the Disciples of Andraste," he bows. "The Ashes you seek reside atop this mountain, watched by an immortal guardian who refuses to accept the truth of the risen Lady. Now the Ashes prevent holy Andraste from fully realizing Her new form. They are a remnant of her past incarnation, and She cannot move on as long as they exist."

Daylen raises his eyebrows. "So... you want us to, what, throw the Ashes out a window?"

Kolgrim gives him a sharp look. "The Beloved needs to reclaim the Ashes, to make them Her own again. All it would take is a drop of Her blood. Blood carries power, strength, knowledge! Through it, all the power that is held in the Ashes will be returned to our Lady."

Daylen has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud at this madman. Avina is giving him the strangest look, and that isn't making it any easier.

"Why have you not done this, then?" Daylen grinds out.

"The Guardian has foiled all our attempts to reach the Urn. He keeps what power remains from the true Andraste. He knows the Disciples, and we cannot touch him, for he draws his strength from the Ashes themselves. But you could deliver our Lady what is rightfully Hers."

"I could just imagine the grand cleric, if she were here," Alistair comments. "Her head would explode, I kid you not."

"The rewards for performing such a service would be great indeed," Kolgrim adds.

Daylen might not be the most devout of Andrastians, but even he cringes mentally at the thought. Not only that, but Avina would surely flay him alive for even considering it.

But, seeing as how he'd rather not fight the man with the giant battleax, he goes along with it. "What would I have to do?"

Kolgrim seems quite pleased. "The task is simple. I give you a vial of the holy Andraste's blood, and you simply empty the vial into the Ashes. Whatever magic was held in the Ashes will be undone... and our great Lady will be freed from the shackles of Her past life."

"I don't know if I like the idea of us helping this Kolgrim," Alistair says nervously.

"And what?" Sten rumbles. "Encourage the worship of a large lizard? Consider your actions carefully."

Leliana crosses her arms. "What is this talk of blood and power? And he thinks Andraste is reborn? It is preposterous! Oh, I do not like this."

"There is nothing but madness in his words," Wynne adds. "He is a fanatic, and a dangerous one. Be warned - he means to lead you astray."

"Once that is done, you will have earned your place as our honored brother," Kolgrim declares.

Daylen bows his head once. "Very well. I will do as you ask." He subtly tilts his head to the side, sending Avina a wink. She stiffens for a moment, then nods slightly, showing she understands.

"If we succeed, Kolgrim and his followers will be indebted to you," Morrigan tells him. "That puts you in a very advantageous position."

"Excellent," Zevran approves. "With Kolgrim on our side, we could make it through this entire ordeal with our neck intact."

Alistair groans, placing a hand over his eyes. "Bad. Bad idea. Remember the last time you had to drink blood? Only worse."

"Quiet, Alistair," Daylen shushes. "I know what I'm doing."

At his side, Avina gives a slight nod to him, and Alistair sighs. "I'm just going to assume that you have something amazing and tricky up your sleeve."

"Now," Kolgrim interrupts, "I shall beseech the holy Andraste to let you pass safely into the Inner Sanctum."

Kolgrim heads towards the exit, and Daylen, along with everyone else, follow silently.

* * *

**Avina**

"I bid you welcome, pilgrim."

Avina nearly gives a yelp of shock. He sounds like the spirit of Valor she met during her Harrowing. There is power in his voice, through it is barely above a whisper. His eyes are a bright, pure blue, and his skin is as pale as the moon. He wears ancient, yet well kept, silver armor, with a warhammer across his back. His hair is covered by his helmet, and he has a dark beard that reminds her somewhat of Duncan. He has probably been here for a very long time.

There is no mistaking who this is.

"You must be the Guardian," she breathes.

He nods. "Yes, I am the Guardian of the Ashes. I have waited years for this."

"Why have you been here for so long?" Avina asks.

"It has been my duty, my life, to protect the Urn and prepare the way for the faithful who come to revere Andraste."

"Let's not waste time," she says. "How do I get to the Urn?"

"You have come to honor Andraste," the Guardian tells her, "and you shall, if you prove yourself worthy."

She chews her lip for a moment. "And if I am not worthy?"

"Then you will not come to the Urn," he replies. "It is not my place to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that. If you are found worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a small pinch of the Ashes for yourself. If not..." He does not continue. He does not need to.

Avina nods in understanding. "I will go through the Gauntlet, then."

"Before you go," the Guardian stops her, "there is something I must ask. Jowan was discovered by the Templars. You were helping him. Tell me, do you think you failed Jowan?"

Avina shakes her head sadly. "No. There was nothing I could have done to save him."

"Then you do not dwell on past mistakes - neither yours, nor someone else's."

Alistair shrugs. "It's easy for others to judge what you've done, in hindsight, but it doesn't make it any better."

Morrigan crosses her arms. "One wonders what this Guardian's purpose is. Be wary of his traps."

"It is sometimes difficult to see how our actions affect an outcome," Wynne murmurs, "but that does not mean our actions had no effect."

"What's past is past," Leliana agrees. "Why bring it up and reopen old wounds?"

"Oh, good," Zevran sighs. "For a moment I thought you were going to go on a weepy tirade and try to 'share' your feelings."

"But what of those that follow you?" The Guardian turns to Daylen. "Daylen Amell of the Kirkwall Amells," he addresses. "Outside of the Circle, you were nobility. You had a family. You were important."

Daylen crosses his arms and glares at the Guardian. "Yes, yes, I was spoiled rotten, and then I was dragged to the Circle by a group of Templars who caught me when my mother brought me to the Chantry. If you want to know if I failed my mother, then no. I was very young; I could not have escaped, nor could I have fought the Templars. If you want to know if I hate the Templars for what happened, then, not exactly. It's true that it is their job, but sometimes my temper overrules my logic and I do hate them all." Alistair's brow wrinkles, and Daylen adds, "No offense, Alistair."

"None taken."

"Very well," the Guardian relents. He turns his attention to Alistair. "Alistair, knight and Warden... you wonder if things would have been different if you were with Duncan on the battlefield. You could have shielded him from the killing blow. You wonder, don't you, if you should have died, and not him."

Alistair's head falls slightly. "I... yes. If Duncan had been saved, and not me, everything would be better. If I'd just had the chance, maybe..."

Avina's eyes fill with tears. "Alistair, _no_..."

"Shale," the Guardian says. "the stone giant... there is so little I can draw from you. I feel the distant echo of a soul, dormant for so long, now awake..."

Shale raises a stone brow. "Good for you."

"And with the awakening, the slow realization of all you have lost. Ah, Shale... your entire existence is a test of your will and courage. You have my respect."

"Ask me your question, Guardian," Wynne says. "I am ready."

"You are ever the advisor, ready with a word of wisdom. Do you wonder if you spout only platitudes, burned into your mind in the distant past? Perhaps you are only a tool used to spread the word of the Circle and the chantry. Does doubt ever chip away at your truths?"

Wynne frowns. "You frame the statement in the form of a question, yet you already know our answers. There is no sense in hiding, is there? Yes, I do doubt at times. Only the fool is completely sure of himself."

Satisfied, the Guardian turns to Leliana. "And you... why do you say the Maker speaks to you, when all know the Maker has left? He spoke only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself Her equal?"

Leliana flushes in anger. "I never said that! I-"

"In Orlais, you were someone. In Lothering, you feared you would lose yourself, become a drab sister, and disappear. When your brothers and sisters of the cloister criticized you for what you professed, you were hurt, but you also reveled in it. It made you special. You enjoyed the attention, even if it was negative."

Leliana gapes at him. "You're saying I made it up, for... for attention? That's not true! I know what I believe."

"Demand whatever answers you want, spirit," Sten says impassively.

"You came to this land as an observer, but you killed a family in a blind rage. Have you failed your people, by allowing a qunari to be seen in that light?"

Sten's eyebrows lower over his violet eyes. "I have never denied that I failed."

The Guardian nods. "And the Antivan elf..."

"Oh, is it my turn now?" Zevran asks. "Hurrah. I'm so excited."

"Many have died at your hand. But is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of -"

"How do you know about that?" Zevran snaps, cutting him off.

"I know much; it is allowed to me. The question stands, however. Do you regret -"

Zevran crosses his arms. "Yes. The answer is yes, if that is what you wish to know. I do. Now move on."

"And you, Morrigan, Flemeth's daughter... what -"

Morrigan waves her hand dismissively. "Begone spirit! I will not play your games."

The Guardian bows his head. "I will respect your wishes." He turns back to Avina. "One more thing you must know; only four of you may go through the Gauntlet. Choose wisely, for the tests require strength of both body and spirit."

Avina bites her lip uncertainly, glancing at Daylen.

"The way is open," the Guardian tells them. "Good luck, and may you find what you seek."

* * *

In the end, Avina, Daylen, Alistair, and Leliana take the final steps into the Gauntlet to face the first test.

They come into a large, dimly lit room; on each side, there stand four spirits.

Avina leads them to the spirit of the woman on the left. Her hair is gray with age, her face drawn with sadness.

"Echoes from the shadow realm,  
whispers of things yet to come.  
Thought's strange sister dwells in the night,  
is swept away by dawning light.  
Of what do I speak?"

"I think it's... a dream," Leliana breathes.

The spirit nods. "A dream came upon me as my daughter slumbered beneath my heart. It told of her life, and of her betrayal and death.

"I am sorrow and regret. I am a mother weeping bitter tears for a daughter she could not save."

With a loud wooshing sound, she disappears.

The group moves across warily. There, is the spirit of a lovely smiling young woman with short red hair. She offers no greeting, but a riddle as well.

"The smallest lark could carry it, while a strong man might not. Of what do I speak?"

Daylen scratches the back of his head.

Avina thinks for a moment. Not something physical... "A tune?" she guesses.

"Yes," the spirit agrees. "I was Andraste's dearest friend in childhood, and always would we sing. She celebrated the beauty of life, and all who heard Her would be filled with joy. They say the Maker Himself was moved by Andraste's song, and then she sang no more of simple things."

And like the spirit of Andraste's mother, she disappears.

Once again, the group moves on; this time to the spirit of a bald elf.

"I'd neither a guest

nor a trespasser be;

In this place I belong

that belongs also to me.

Of what do I speak?"

"Home," Avina blurts. To her, it is the most simple thing.

"Yes," says the elven ghost, smiling at Avina. "It was my dream for the people to have a home of their own, where we would have no masters but ourselves. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and thus we followed Andraste, against the Imperium.

"But She was betrayed... And so were we."

Then he is gone as well.

A woman in fine magister robes is next, her face twisted in rage.

"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. The debt of blood must be paid in full. Of what do I speak?"

Daylen purses his lips. "Vengeance."

"Yes. My husband, Hessarian, would have chosen a quick death for Andraste. I made him swear that She would die publicly, with Her warleaders, that all would know the Imperium's strength.

"I am justice. I am vengeance. Blood can only be repaid in blood."

They move across from her.

A brother in chantry robes stands there, his face serene and calm.

"The bones of the world stretch towards the sky's embrace. Veiled in white, like a bride greeting her groom. Of what do I speak?"

"The mountains?" Avina asks.

"Yes," the spirit agrees. "I carried Andraste's Ashes out of Tevinter, into the mountains to the east, where She could gaze ever into Her Maker's sky...

"No more fitting a tomb than this could we find."

The next spirit is a man in a horned helmet and ancient leathers with a thick beard.

"A poison of the soul, passion's cruel counterpart; from love she grows till love lies slain. Of what do I speak?"

This can only be Maferath.

"Jealousy," Avina states.

"Yes," he says sadly. "Jealousy drove me to betrayal. I was the greatest general of the Alamarei, but beside Her I was nothing. Hundreds fell before Her on bended knee. They loved Her, as did the Maker.

"I loved Her too, but what man can compare with a god?"

He is gone then, and there are only two left.

Yet another man in chantry robes stands next.

"No man has seen it, but all men know it.

Lighter than air, sharper than any sword.

Comes from nothing, but will fell the strongest armies.

Of what do I speak?"

It cannot be disease, as not every man knows of it. It cannot be anything physical, as it cannot be seen. Something everyone knows, that can fell the strongest of armies. Avina thinks back to what she can remember being taught about Andraste and the Tevinter Imperium. Part of why Andraste was so successful was because of...

"Hunger."

The man nods, grinning. "Yes, hunger was the weapon used against the wicked men of the Tevinter Imperium. The Maker kindled the sun's flame, scorching the land. Their crops failed, and their armies could not march. Then He opened the heavens and bade the waters flow, and washed away their filth.

"I am Cathaire, disciple of Andraste and commander of Her armies. I saw these things done and knew the Maker smiled on us."

The eighth and final spirit is a man in magister robes.

"She wields the broken sword, and separates true kings from tyrants. Of what do I speak?"

"Mercy?"

At his guess, Avina turns to look at Daylen, eyebrows raised. He shrugs.

"Yes. I could not bear the sight of Andraste's suffering, and mercy bade me end Her life.

"I am the penitent sinner, who shows compassion as he hopes compassion will be shown to him."

He is gone, and the door finally opens.

She only hopes she has the strength to see these next tests through.

* * *

Walking through fire is the easy part.

Now, building the bridge, fighting herself, those were the difficult parts.

The charred corpses do not bother her. After all, she has faith. She is not here out of greed.

She sheds her robes without hesitation or embarrassment, and the others do the same. Once everyone is ready, Avina is the first one to step into the line of the flames.

Leliana follows, then Alistair, and finally Daylen. Each of them pass through the flames unscathed.

It is done. And the Urn of Sacred Ashes lies before them.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Nature of the Beast**


	19. Nature of the Beast

**Tada. Chaptah.**

**I miss my reviews! What happened to my lovely reviewers? Will you ever return?**

**I hope so! For the sake of Ferelden!**

**Just kidding, but still. I miss those reviews, guys. Even if the chapter bores you, please let me know. *Insert puppy eyes here***

* * *

**Avina**

"... and then Leliana stabbed him in the kidney," Daylen finishes, making a dramatic stabbing motion and a sound like a dying cow. Avina wrinkles her nose, but can't help but laugh.

They stand in the camp, each of them exhausted from their trip up and down the mountain.

As soon as they returned, those who hadn't been in the group demanded to know what happened. So Daylen told them.

Zevran laughs. "Excellent! Trick him into calming his lizard, then stab him in the back."

Avina rolls her eyes. Daylen may have made up the part about smashing the vial of dragon blood on the ground in front of Kolgrim, but most of his story is true. Kolgrim was rather angry when they came out, and he did attack them.

And Leliana stabbed him in the kidney.

"We'll probably still have to kill that thing," Avina points out. "But I suppose we can do that after we heal the arl."

"It was incredible," Leliana says to Wynne. "There are no words to express..."

"I didn't think anyone could succeed in finding Andraste's final resting place," Alistair murmurs. "But we did."

Avina has proof too, in the little leather pouch of ashes in her pack.

All that is left is to go to Redcliffe, and heal the arl.

Everyone starts heading off to bed or to watch, but Avina knows she isn't ready to sleep yet.

She turns and follows Alistair to his tent.

It's been eating at her since the Guardian, and what he'd said to Alistair. Not only that, but Alistair's reply... it broke her heart. She'd never asked if he wanted to talk about it, and she regrets it now.

He finally notices her. "Oh, is... something on your mind?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about Duncan," she says quietly.

"You don't have to do that," Alistair insists. "I know you didn't know him as long as I did."

Avina shakes her head. "He was like a father to you. I understand."

"I..." his face falls slightly, and he sighs. "Should have handled it better. Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen. Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn't have lost it, not when so much is riding on us, not with the Blight and... everything. I'm sorry."

She lays a hand on his arm. "Everyone needs time to mourn. You don't have to apologize."

"I'd... like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once this is all done, if we're still alive. I don't think he had any family to speak of."

"He had you," Avina tells him.

"I suppose he did. It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him. In the battle. I feel like I abandoned him."

"It doesn't sound stupid," she assures him. "I understand."

"Of course, I'd be dead then, wouldn't I?" Alistair muses. "It's not like that would make him happier. I think he came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I'll go up there sometime, see about putting something up in his honor. I don't know. Have you... had someone close to you die? Not that I mean to pry; I'm just..."

She remembers her mother, beautiful and poor in the alienage of Denerim as she struggled to keep them both fed. She thinks of her friends in the Circle whose bodies she came across, or had to slay...

"I've lost enough to know what you're going through," she says simply.

He nods. "Yes, I... imagine you really have, haven't you? Thank you. It was good to talk about it with someone close to me. It means a lot."

"If you like, I'll go to highever with you, when you go," she offers.

"I'd like that," he tells her. "So would he, I think."

"Another thing," she says. "I've never asked, what changes? After the Joining?"

"You mean, other than becoming a Grey Warden?"

She shrugs. "You've been a Grey Warden longer than I have."

He appears to think about it. "Hmm. You know, I asked Duncan the same thing, too, and all I got was, 'You'll see.'"

She cocks her head to the side. "He wouldn't tell you?"

"It's not that Duncan wants to keep it a secret," he defends. "It's just that the Grey Wardens don't discuss it much. I gather it's not a pleasant topic. The first change I noticed was an increase in appetite. I used to get up in the middle of the night and raid the castle larder. I thought I was starving. I'd slurp down every dinner like it was my last," he laughs, "my face all covered in gravy. When I'd look up, the other Grey Wardens would stare... then laugh themselves to tears."

Avina raises her eyebrows innocently. "I haven't felt anything like that."

"Really?" Alistair says incredulously. "Because I was watching you wolf down food the other day and I thought, 'It's a good thing she gets a lot of exercise."

Avina sticks her tongue out between grinning teeth as she shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a growing girl."

"I'll say!" he immediately agrees. "Uh... I didn't mean it like that. Heh." She pretends to glare, lifting her fist. "Don't hit me! I bruise easily."

She laughs, lowering her hand.

"Oh... and then there were the nightmares," he continues. "Duncan said it was part of how we sense the darkspawn. We tap into their... well, I don't know what you'd call it. Their 'group mind'. And when we sleep, it's even worse. You learn to block it out after a while, but at first it's hard. It's supposed to be worse for those who Join during a Blight. How is it for you?"

Avina shrugs again. "I'm a mage; I've never exactly had pleasant dreams, but I know what you're talking about. Yes, I've had strange dreams."

"Some people never have much trouble, but that's rare. Others have trouble sleeping their entire life. They're more sensitive, I suppose. Everyone ends up the same, though. Once you reach a certain age, the real nightmares come. That's how a Grey Warden knows his time has come."

Her eyebrows lower. "His time has come?"

"Oh," Alistair muses. "that's right. We never had time to tell you that part, did we? Well, in addition to the other wonderful things about being a Grey Warden, you don't need to worry about dying of old age. You've got thirty years to live. Give or take. The taint... it's a death sentence. Ultimately your body won't be able to take it. When the time comes, Most Grey Wardens go to Orzammar and die in battle rather than... waiting. It's tradition."

"Why Orzammar?" she asks.

"You'll always find darkspawn down where the dwarves are," he explains. "The oldest Grey Wardens head to the Deep Roads for one last glorious battle. Not that there's a shortage of darkspawn during a Blight, but that's the tradition. The dwarves respect us for it. And you wondered why we kept the Joining a secret from the new recruits. There you have it."

She shakes her head. "I never wonder that. I understand."

Alistair sighs, his eyes getting a far away look in them. "You know, Duncan... he started having the nightmares again. He told me that - in private. He said it wouldn't be long before he'd go to Orzammar himself. I guess he got what he wanted. I just wish it had been something worthy of him."

She places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He will be remembered, Alistair. As will the others."

He sighs again. "I know. Ending the Blight... should make this all worthwhile, right?"

He turns away, as if expecting her to leave.

She flops down onto the ground next to where he sits, crossing her legs and leaning back on her arms. "Will you tell me about them? The other Grey Wardens?"

Alistair smiles for a moment. "I didn't know them for very long, but I guess it was longer than you. You never met them all, did you?"

She shakes her head. "I only met you and Duncan."

"They were quite a group," he recalls. "Actually, they felt like and extended family, since we were all cut off from our former lives. We also laughed more than you'd think. There was this one time..." he pauses. "Well, you probably don't want to hear stories about men you didn't know."

She shakes her head again. "No, I'd like to hear about them."

He grins at the look on her face; a look of sheer interest in what he has to say.

No one ever looked at him like that.

"There was this one Grey Warden who came all the way from the Anderfels. What was his name? Gregor? Grigor? He was a burly man with the biggest, fuzziest beard you've ever seen. And the man could _drink_. He drank all the time, but he never got drunk. Finally, we all made a pool to see just how many pints it would take to put him under the table."

"It sounds like you had a lot of fun."

"Sometimes," he agrees. "We were kin, of a sort. All of us had gone through the Joining, so we knew... anyhow, it doesn't have to be deadly serious all the time. Anyhow, we never did find out. He said he'd drink a pint for every half-pint that the rest of us drank. He was still going by the time the rest of us were passed out! I'm told that Duncan walked in later on and saw us all passed out from one end of the hall to the other, and Gregor still drinking. Duncan laughed until he nearly..." he stops. "until..."

"I'm sorry," she tells him. "I know this must be hard for you."

"Yes, I..." he swallows. "I suppose so. I thought I was done with this, but... it just struck me that I have nothing to remember Duncan by. Nothing at all. There's no body, not even a token of his that I could... take with me. That must... sound really stupid to you."

"No, it's not stupid."

"I just would have liked something of his to take with me, that's all." He stands, stretching. "Well, there's no use in moaning about it, is there? He's gone. I'm... going to bed now."

Her heart aches.

There is no question in her mind now.

She is lost.

She loves him.

* * *

**Alistair**

He doesn't know why, but he likes Zevran even less when he wakes to find him fussing over and shining a pair of new leather boots.

He wasn't wearing those yesterday.

Hmph.

What makes it worse, is how Zevran chatters with Avina the entire way back to Redcliffe. Nonstop, from Antivan politics to Ferelden weather.

But he isn't jealous.

Not even a little.

* * *

Everyone moves out of their way when Avina bursts through the doors, the tiny pouch at the ready in her hands.

Isolde practically cries with relief, and Teagan is hot on their heels on their way to the arl's room.

Alistair doesn't even have time to note how much grey has gotten into his beard since he last saw him - Avina is quickly blocking his view. One of the healers tilt's his head back, opening his mouth.

Avina pours the small bit of ashes in.

The other healers swoop in, washing it down with a healing potion and sending waves of magic into his chest.

For a moment, there is nothing. Everyone holds their breath.

Purple light emanates from his body, returning color to his skin, and his lungs fill with a breath of air.

The arl's eyes slowly open. "Wh-where am I?"

The air of dread disperses, replaced with relief as Isolde falls, sobbing, onto her husband and half the people in the room cheer.

* * *

"This is most troubling."

Arl Eamon turns from the fire in the main hall to face the Wardens. "There is much to be done, that is true. But I should first be thankful to those who have done so much. Grey Wardens, you have not only saved my life, but kept my family safe as well. I am in your debt. Will you permit me to offer you a reward for your service?"

Daylen and Avina exchange a glance.

It's almost weird between those two now, Alistair thinks. Being all leader-y with their silent communication. He wishes he could do that.

Daylen looks as if he's going to speak, but Avina cuts him off. "We need your help against the Blight. That will do."

Arl Eamon nods. "I understand, but regardless of your motivations I feel you are worthy of reward. I would like to honor your efforts, nothing more."

Avina bows her head. "As you wish, then."

"Then allow me to declare you and those travelling with you champions of Redcliffe. You will always be a welcome guest within these halls."

He picks up a shield from a nearby table, presenting it to Avina. "And for you, young Warden, a shield of the same make as those that have been given to our finest knights."

She flashes him a grin. "Forgive me, my arl, but I don't think I'm as strong as you may think."

Arl Eamon chuckles. "I suppose."

"I would feel much safer were this shield given to Alistair," she suggests.

"Very well," he says, and hands the shield to Alistair, who gives her a proud look.

"Thank you, your grace," Avina tells him, giving a slight curtsy.

"We should speak of Loghain, brother," Teagan says. "There is no telling what he will do once he learns of your recovery."

"Loghain instigates a civil war even though the darkspawn are on our very doorstep. Long I have known him. He is a sensible man; one who never desired power."

"I was there when he announced he was taking over the throne, Eamon," Teagan argues. "He is mad with ambition, I tell you."

"Mad, indeed," Eamon says sadly. "Mad enough to kill Cailan, to attempt to kill myself and destroy my lands. Whatever happened to him, Loghain must be stopped. What's more, we can scarce afford to fight this war to it's bitter end."

"But you can unite the nobility against Loghain," Daylen protests. "Can't you?"

"I could unite those opposed to Loghain, yes. But not all opposed him. He has some very powerful allies. We have no time to wage a campaign against him. Someone must surrender if Ferelden is to have any chance at fighting the darkspawn."

"But once everyone learns what he's done..." Avina trails off.

Eamon nods. "I will spread word of Loghain's treachery, both here and against the king. But it will be but a claim made without proof. Those claims will give Loghain's allies pause, but we must combine it with a challenge Loghain cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Loghain's daughter, the queen."

Teagan turns. "Are you referring to Alistair, Brother? Are you certain?"

Wait, what? They want him to be king?!

Bad idea, bad idea.

"I would not propose such a thing if we had an alternative," Eamon says grimly. "But the unthinkable has occurred."

Avina makes a shocked sound, taking a step forward. "You intend to put Alistair forward as king?"

"Teagan and I have a claim through marriage," Eamon explains. "But we would seem opportunists, no better than Loghain. Alistair's claim is by blood."

"What about me?" Alistair demands. "Does anyone care what I want?"

For a moment, Avina looks back at him.

He can't name the look she gives him, and she quickly looks away. But he can't help but feel that she isn't very happy with this, either.

"You have a responsibility, Alistair," Eamon says seriously. "Without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support him, for the good of Ferelden. Is that what you want."

Alistair flounders around in his head, but there's nothing he can say. "I... but I... no, my lord."

A touch on his hand startles him for a moment, then he realizes it's only Avina. She's reached back to lace their fingers together. To remind him he is not alone.

He grips her hand tightly, grateful beyond measure that she is here with him.

"I see only one way to proceed," Eamon continues. "I will call for a Landsmeet, a gathering of all of Ferelden's nobility in the city of Denerim. There, Ferelden can decide who shall rule, one way or another. Then the business of fighting our true foe can begin. What say you to that, my friends? I do not wish to proceed without your blessing."

Avina doesn't raise her head.

"I say we proceed with your plan," Daylen agrees.

"Very well," Eamon acknowledges. "I will send out the word. But before we proceed, I believe there is the matter of the mage... my son's tutor. He still lives, I understand."

"He does," Teagan confirms. "He is in the dungeon, Brother."

Eamon nods. "Have him brought here, Teagan. I wish to see him."

* * *

**Avina**

Though she reached out to give Alistair comfort, she holds his hand like a lifeline as she waits for her friend to be brought up from the dungeon.

When he arrives, he isn't chained, but there is a guard on each side of him and he looks more weak and haggard than ever.

"Jowan," Eamon says. "What you have done is not in question. You tried to assassinate me and set into motion a series of events that nearly destroyed everything I cherish. What have you to say in your own defense?"

Jowan looks utterly defeated. "Nothing, my lord... Other than to say I am sorry. I expect no mercy for what I have done."

"I see. Grey Wardens, have you anything to say on Jowan's behalf?"

"He was my friend," Avina admits. "He was a good man. I'm not so sure about the recent past, but I believe he is earnest in his desire to repent."

"Well said," Eamon compliments. "You show more loyalty, perhaps, than he would in your shoes. And what would you have me do? As the injured party, my ability to see the merciful path is... strained."

"Let him help," Avina pleads. "He wants to atone. Let him help the people who need it. We would benefit from another mage."

Eamon shakes his head. "I cannot do that. He is a criminal and a maleficar."

"You condemn him for being naive!" Daylen protests.

Eamon's eyes narrow. "That is quite enough. If you have nothing else to add...?"

"Give him to the Circle of Magi," Daylen suddenly blurts.

Avina gapes at him.

His fate will be no better there; they'll likely execute him... or immediately make him tranquil.

But Daylen wasn't one to let an advantage slip. So she stayed silent.

"Fair enough," the arl says. "And wisely said. Jowan. I hereby turn you over to the Circle of Magi."

"Thank you, my lord," Jowan says quietly.

Daylen nudges Avina. "They'll send him back to the dungeon, then have Templars escort him back to the tower where they'll likely execute him. Now would be your chance to say goodbye."

She releases Alistair's hand and rushes forward into her surrogate brother's arms.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"For what?"

"I couldn't save you."

He chuckles. "I condemned myself. Some things have to be beyond you." He pats her back soothingly, as if he isn't the one about to be sent to die. "You did more than most would."

"I should have sent you away," she laments. "Back when I found you. I should have told you to run away."

"I told you I was tired of running."

"You would have lived."

"Stop blaming yourself," he commands, pulling back to look at her.

The guards nod to each other, and they lead Jowan away.

Avina collapses into a heap on the floor, sobbing into her hands.

* * *

**Daylen**

"We need to use the treaties," Daylen says, taking a swig of ale as they sit in the dining hall.

Avina's eyes are puffy and red. "Which should we go for first?"

This is where there's an issue.

"Both," he says simply.

Her brow furrows, as does Alistair's. "What do you mean?"

"I'm suggesting that one of us go to Orzammar for the dwarves, while the other goes to the Brecilian Forest for the Dalish."

"Do you really think splitting up is a good idea at this point?" Alistair asks.

Daylen crosses his arms. "There may be safety in numbers, but fewer are stealthier. Why would we need half an army to gather allies, anyhow?"

"Half an army?" Avina huffs.

Daylen grins. "I'd say Sten and Shale alone count as half an army."

At this, she laughs. "True."

"Now, we just need to decide who will be going where."

"I'd like to see the elves," Avina volunteers, a sparkle in her eye. "I studied their language at the Circle - I'd like to-"

"Then I'll go to Orzammar," Daylen finishes. "Who do you want to take with you?"

"Alistair," she blurts, then flushes. "I - I mean... uh..."

"Oh, good," Daylen says. "That gives me an excuse to bring Morrigan."

Alistair makes a gagging noise.

"Griffon will go with you, so I guess I'd like Shale to come with me," Daylen decides.

"I'd like to bring Zevran with me," Avina responds. Alistair scowls; Daylen bites his cheek to keep from grinning.

"Then I'll take Leliana."

"You should bring Wynne," Avina suggests. "You should always have a healer on hand."

"True," Daylen agrees. "And Sten will go with you."

"Okay," Avina replies. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Avina awakens the next morning to someone pounding on her door.

She practically flies out of bed, still in her nightgown, fearing the worst and she yanks the door open to see Alistair.

"Alistair! What -" she starts.

"Avina," he stops her. "Last night, someone broke into Jowan's cell. Either he's dead, or he escaped."

* * *

**Zevran**

A few rooms over, Zevran sits in front of his fireplace, shining his leather boots with a knowing smirk.

They should really see about changing those cell locks.

* * *

**Avina**

"Hold, outsider," the Dalish hunter says as they approach the forest. She and her companions block the way inside, preventing them from entering the Dalish camp. "You may be of my kind, but you are not Dalish. Why are you here?"

"I would like to speak with your keeper," Avina tells her.

The huntress narrows her eyes. "And why is that?"

Avina squares her shoulders, her spine straightening. "I am a Grey Warden."

"That is not a lie many would attempt," the huntress comments. "I will bring you to the keeper, then, and he can decide if your business is worthwhile."

* * *

The huntress brings them to a bald elf whose brow is creased with worry and concentration, as if he is performing a dangerous task.

"Hmm," he says as they approach. His voice is deep, and carries authority. "I see we have guests."

Griffon snarls at him, barking in warning. Avina hushes him.

"And a hound amongst them," the keeper scoffs. "As if we haven't had enough trouble with such creatures. Who are these strangers, Mithra? I have precious little patience and less time to spend on outsiders today."

The huntress, Mithra is her name then. "This one claims to be a Grey Warden and wishes to speak with the clan. I thought it best to leave the decision to you."

"That was wise of you," the keeper compliments. "Ma serannas, Mithra, you may return to your post."

Mithra nods. "Ma nuvenin, Keeper." She and her fellow hunters walk away.

"Now, allow me to introduce myself," the keeper says. "I am Zathrian, the keeper of this clan, and it's guide and preserver of ancient lore. And you are?"

Avina smiles. "Andaran atish'an, Zathrian. I am Avina Surana of the Grey Wardens."

"Such manners," Zathrian notes. "But if you came to bring news of the Blight in the south, it is not needed. I had already sensed it's corruption. I would have taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to move. Sadly, as you can see, we do not."

Alistair gives a half-smile. "Yes, it seems like you have your own troubles. What are the odds?"

"I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago. Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made. This will require some... explanation. Please follow me."

* * *

**Alistair**

Alistair sighs. Really, nothing is ever simple, is it? They can never just recieve aid, end the Blight, done, thank you, the end.

Instead, every stop is a peril.

Alistair briefly wonders if Daylen fares any better, but then again the dwarven merchant they ran into claimed it was closed off. That didn't sound like a good sign.

Avina is sitting around a fire with the Dalish children, telling them about her life and singing to them.

This hurts.

Alistair never thought about it before, but because of his being a Grey Warden, he'll likely not be able to have children. Especially not with another Grey Warden.

As he watches Avina with the children surrounding her, he realizes that he wants that.

With her.

One of the little girls tugs on her skirts, holding up a hand with something green in it. Avina laughs, and takes the grass crown, setting it upon her head.

Not too far in the future, Alistair will have a crown of his own if Eamon has his way, and it worries him.

True, he believes he could be a good ruler, but that's not the entirety of the problem.

When he becomes king, he must take a wife and have an heir.

Elves are not accepted as nobility, let alone as queens. _Especially_ not mages.

Which means he and Avina will only be together for a short while. He will not be able to be with her once he is king.

This scares him more than anything.

He has so much he wants to give her, so much he wants to share with her. He knows now that if he had the chance, he'd marry her in a heartbeat, build her a house, and give her lots of beautiful, healthy children. Because he loves her.

He loves her and he wishes he could give her everything.

At that moment, she looks up at him, and smiles. She has a daisy in her hair, and the little girl on her knee.

Curious, he moves forward to listen in.

"I learned it from the Circle," she says to the kids.

"How does a circle know Elvish?" the girl on her knee asks. "Do shapes know things?"

She laughs. "That's the name of the tower I lived in. And they have lots of books there."

"I only know some because Mamae sings it to me when I go to sleep."

"I don't know any lullabies," Avina admits. "I'll tell you what; I'll teach you one of my songs, if you teach me your lullaby."

"Okay!" the group chimes.

Avina clears her throat, and begins:

_"Heruamin lotirien_  
_Alai uethri maeria_  
_Halurocon yalei nam bahna_  
_Dolin nereba maome_

_Ame amin_  
_Halai lothi amin_  
_Aloamin Heruamin_

_Heruamin oh lonai_  
_Imwe naine beriole_

_Ame amin_  
_Halai lothi amin_  
_Aloamin Heruamin_

_Ame amin_  
_Halai lothi amin_  
_Noamin_

_Ame amin_  
_Halai lothi amin_  
_Noamin Heruamin."_

The children clap excitedly, and Alistair joins in. She grins up at him, and he smiles warmly back.

And suddenly, he is infinitely glad that they split up with half the group.

* * *

**Morrigan**

Daylen does not go straight to the mountains like everyone expected him to.

Instead, he goes past Lothering. Around Ostagar.

He is going to Flemeth's hut.

They set up camp just before they reach it. It's cold, but Daylen is warm.

She lies awake as he slumbers beside her, his face slack and so ridiculously adorable that she's angry at herself for thinking it cute.

She can't help but admire him when he's like this. His dark lashes resting on his cheeks, his jaw relaxed, his hair ruffled.

She knows that he cares for her; cares for her more than he should. She has a job to do, after all. They all do.

But she cares for him. More than she should.

He is on a mission, one to save the country and possibly all of Thedas, but he puts it on hold? For her? For a task of killing an abomination several hundreds of years old?

And he didn't even have to think about it.

It's confounding.

But she can't help but be touched by his dedication.

He's a fool. And it's completely unfair that it makes her mission that much more difficult.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: Victory and Sacrifice**


	20. Victory and Sacrifice

**This chapter is a shout out to ImagineBagginsDragon! Love ya, gurl!**

**That being said, this chapter isn't that long. ****Lots of fluffiness, not a lot of progress.**

* * *

**Alistair**

The Dalish have allowed them to camp just outside the forest, and Alistair is rather glad that Avina has decided to do that instead of camping _with_ them. For reasons.

His palms sweat all through dinner, and he has to walk in a circle for a while to get up his nerve.

He watches her as she presents a box to Sten, which he opens cautiously before looking stunned. Avina smiles up at the giant, saying something Alistair can't hear, and Sten bows his head in thanks.

And then she's walking right over to him, so he swallows and clears his throat. "All right. I guess I really don't know how to ask you this." At least his voice doesn't shake; yay him.

"Are you sweating?" she asks, tilting her head in concern.

Her comment only makes it worse. "No! I mean yes. I mean... I'm a little nervous, sure. Not that this is anything bad or frightening or... well, yes." He wipes a hand over his eyes. "Oh, how do I say this? You'd think it would be easier, but every time I'm around you, I feel as if my head's about to explode. I - I can't think straight."

She frowns slightly. "I'm sorry."

"I don't mean it like _that_," he exclaims. "I mean... ugh! All right, let me start over." Brilliant start, he berates himself. What did Daylen say about women? Say something sappy?

'Be honest,' his memory supplies helpfully. 'That should work for you.'

It's worth a shot.

"Here's the thing: being near you makes me _crazy_, but I can't imagine being without you. Not ever. I don't know how to say this another way; I want to spend the night with you. Here, in the camp. Maybe this is too fast, I don't know, but... I know what I feel."

She blinks, her cheeks flushing. "You want to... with me? Now? Are you sure?"

"I wanted to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place... but when will it be perfect? If things were, we wouldn't even have met. We sort of... stumbled into each other, and despite this this being the least perfect time, I still found myself falling for you in between all the fighting and everything. I really don't want to wait anymore. I've... I've never done this before. You know that. I want it to be with you... while we have the chance. In case..."

She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him, preventing him from saying anything more.

_Well_, he thinks as he stumbles for a moment in surprise before regaining his footing. _That's the end of that conversation._

* * *

**Zevran**

"And there you have it," Zevran says from across the camp as he watches the amourous couple disappear into Alistair's tent.

Sten doesn't look impressed, merely returning to caring for his armor.

Zevran rubs his hands together. "Excellent. Leliana owes me a sovereign."

* * *

**Alistair**

When he wakes, he feels the weight of something soft and warm draped over his chest. His blanket isn't this heavy, he knows. Confused, he glances down at his body, only to see _her_.

Her hair is unbound and wavy, flowing over her shoulder, her cheek resting over his heart. Her slim arms are wrapped around him and he's immediately distracted by the smoothness of her pale back. Sometime during the night, the blanket must have slipped down to her waist, baring her upper half.

Throught the crack in the flaps of the tent, the firelight glints off her peaceful face and she sighs in her sleep, her breath tickling the hairs on his chest.

She's never looked more beautiful.

His heartbeat must have changed when he woke because she starts to stir, her chest expanding, pressing her soft breasts more firmly to him and he can feel desire start to curl in the pit of his stomache.

Her face scrunches slightly and she finally opens her eyes, blinking slowly. She gives a hum of contentment and retracts her arms, rising to stretch, when she notices Alistair is awake.

She smiles shyly, her hair covering most of the upper half of her body. "Hello," she says quietly, her cheeks tinging pink as she notes their lack of attire.

He smiles back, propping himself up on an elbow and tucking her hair behind her ear. "You know, according to all the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now."

She laughs. "That so?"

"Yep. Lightning first, then the end of civilization as we know it. I am a bad, bad man." He leers at her and she smacks his chest playfully. "You know the rest of our little party here is going to talk, right? They do that."

She sniffs, amusement in her eyes as she crosses her arms. "First smart comment and I feed them to the darkspawn."

"See?" he laughs. "This is why I love you. So, what now? Where do we go from here?"

She sighs, sliding back down on top of him so that they're face to face. "I don't know," she admits. "I only hope we stay together. And live. Those two things would be good."

"I think I can handle that," he muses. "Ah, before we go, have I told you that I love you? I did? Well, it won't kill you to hear it again, will it?"

She smiles again, leaning in to kiss him softly. "I love you, too," she murmurs tenderly.

He kisses her back. "See? Was that so hard?"

Her eyes twinkle. "Not even a little."

* * *

Afterward, when Avina returns to her own tent, he tries to dress. But there's a problem.

He can't find his shirt.

He knows he took it off before he went to sleep, but he can't remember what he did with it. Or what Avina did with it.

And it's his only clean shirt!

He hurries over to Avina's tent and peeks inside to ask her. "Have you seen my -"

Oh. Well that explains it.

She turns to face him, an eyebrow slanted in question, her lips curved into a devious smirk. Her hair is still down, flowing over the shirt that is much too large for her.

"You sneaky little thief," he accuses. "You stole my shirt!"

She crosses her arms, grinning. "Have you ever tried putting on robes? It's difficult. Besides, you weren't using it."

"You'd better give it back," he warns her. "Or I'll be forced to resort to drastic measures."

Her eyes widen in mock fear. _"Drastic measures? _Oh, my! Whatever shall I do?"

"Give me back my shirt," he suggests.

She just sticks out her tongue. "Nope."

"That's it," he says, ducking into the tent.

"What are you - Eek!"

He jumps on her, tickling her mercilessly on her ribs and belly. She squeals, trying to escape, but he's stronger than her. She laughs and laughs until tears are streaming down her cheeks.

He manages to get his hands under the shirt as she squirms and laughs in his grasp.

"That's cheating!" She manages to cry out breathlessly.

He grins evilly, wiggling his fingers and sending her into another laughing fit. "Is it?" He says innocently. He stops tickling her, leaving his hands resting on her sides. She's still giggling, her cheeks red and her hair disheveled. Slowly, she calms down.

Then her fingers are curling in his hair and pulling his head down to hers. He's so surprised that she manages to roll them over so she's on top.

"That's cheating," he protests weakly.

"You're right," she says, pretending to be regretful. "I'm sorry. I'll give you back your shirt."

"Thank-! _Oh, _now that's _really_ cheating."

* * *

**Morrigan**

Morrigan wrings her hands by the fire.

She'd like to think it was becaue her hands were cold, but really, she was worrying.

She'd been alone in the camp for a long time now. Or maybe it just feels that way because she's alone.

Daylen is facing Flemeth right now, she knows. He, Shale, Leliana, and Wynne went to face her, leaving Morrigan behind as she requested.

She wishes she could be there. Not only does she want to see her mother die, to be certain that she is dead, but she's scared.

For _him._

And this is intolerable.

She knew when she joined him that she had a very specific mission ahead of her. One she was now more adamant than ever that she succeed.

But it should be easy. Men are foolish creatures. They often care about only two things: money and women. And Morrigan had been at peace with that.

But Daylen is smart, and skilled, and witty, and everything that she didn't know she wanted. And that's the problem!

She shouldn't want him! She's already slept with him; any infatuation on her part should have faded after that, right?

If anything, it has only grown stronger.

If only he would stop doing the things that made it obvious how he felt about her. Like tucking her hair behind her ear, holding her through the night, giving her finery of silver and gold. He always compliments her intelligence, and how practical she is. He never lets her forget how beautiful she is, and after every battle he makes sure she is alright first.

It's ridiculous.

And it drives her mad that she likes it!

She trusts his abilities, but Mother...

They do not return for the longest time.

But at last, the group returns, battered and bloody and miserable. Shale looks as if she's missing a few of her crystals. Leliana's arm is in a bandage. Wynne's hair is loose and frizzy. And Daylen...

There's a gash along the front of his robes, though the skin beneath it seems to be fine. Blood drip down his temple as if he'd struck his head.

He smiles when he sees her, and he marches right up to her to give her what he's been holding in his arms - Mother's true grimoire.

"You found Mother's grimoire," she breathes, hugging the book to her chest. "I'm glad you were able to find it. My thanks for retrieving it."

He flashes his arrogant grin. "Anything for you, my lady."

"I will begin studying it immediately and unlock the power that it holds."

He nods. "Now that she is dead, what now?"

"Now I have enough time to study Mother's grimoire to find a way to prevent her from stealing my body in the future. For she will be back. One day. I have no doubt of that. And if I cannot protect myself, one day I will track her down again in whatever body she inhabits... and she will die again. And again, if need be. But there is no need to think of such things now. I have you to thank for saving me, so let us... return to the task of dealing with the darkspawn, no?"

"I've killed her once already," Daylen reminds her. "If you cannot protect yourself, I always will. I will never let her, or anyone else, take you." His voice is firm, sure.

"I..." for a moment, she does not know how to respond. "You should not be so... you have no idea what will happen in days to come, to make such promises. Let us... go. There is much to be done before... there is still much to be done."

* * *

But his words yet eat at her as she lays in his arms that night, trying to find sleep.

Restlessly, she turns in his arms to face him. Slowly, his dark eyes open to look at her.

"I wish to ask a question of you," she states.

His lips quirk. "Very well, go ahead."

"I wish to know your opinion of 'love'."

He raises an eyebrow. "This is what you wish to know?"

"Yes, 'Tis a valid question," she says defensively. "You and I have been intimate, for one. We have been... close... for some time now. You are... impressive... in many ways, and you even protected me from Flemeth without hope of reward. I feel anxious when I look upon you," she admits quietly. "I dislike this sense of dependency. 'Tis a weakness I abhor. If this is 'love' I wish to ascertain that you do not feel the same."

He smirks. "And if I do love you?"

"Then we are both fools, and we need to do something immediately! I have allowed myself to become... too close. This is a weakness, for us both."

"I don't think so," he murmurs, stroking her back.

"You are not listening to me. Do not be such a fool! This is for your own good. I would not... I am not like other women. I am not worth your distraction. And you... are not worth mine."

It might not be true, but she has to believe it.

"You're worth my distraction," he disagrees.

"I... you are impossible. Have it your way," she gives up. "But I will tell you truly now: You will regret it in the end."

"Possibly," he chuckles. "But some things are worth the risk."

* * *

**Zevran**

Their group wanders aimlessly through the forest, the chill and threat of werewolves keeping their pace swift. They have gone in several circles already; time could be running out for whatever Dalish hunters remain.

Zevran grins slyly over at Alistair. "So, you finally wooed, then?"

Alistair flushes. "I think that's private."

"Of course, of course," Zevran agrees. "But, do tell me, I am curious... I heard a rumor about mages, and what they wear under their robes..."

Avina's head jerks back toward them. "If you're curious, you could just ask Wynne," she says wryly.

"I did," he protests. "And the only way that I know I could get the truth is if someone checks."

"Go woo your own Circle mage then," Avina sniffs.

Zevran laughs. "Very well, then."

Sten rolls his eyes.

* * *

**Sten**

This warden is most confounding.

A female elven saarebas, roaming free and fighting with skill Sten has only seen in his brothers.

He no longer doubts that she is a woman, but it is still strange.

In Parvollen, the saarebas have their tongues cut out with chains put upon them to protect them and others from magic. They are rarely used, usually only during war or when healing is necessary.

Here, the saarebas not only keep their ability to speak (and therefore accept demons) but have the chance to roam free as mercenaries, healers, and Grey Wardens.

Before, Sten would say that Ferelden and places like it are fools to let such beasts wander free.

But this Grey Warden is no beast.

She's like some of the few Tamassrans that he's seen in Parvollen. Strong. Firm. And yet also like those in the Beresaad with her skill in battle.

And her healing has saved his life on more than one occasion.

This Avina is an odd creature. She is small, even smaller than a human, but the forces of nature bend to her will. She is a Grey Warden. A fierce warrior, a tenacious protector.

When she learned of his loss of Asala, she promised to find the blade for him. It is possible that she could be lying, but Sten knows she is not.

She also knows of his love of those sweet, crumbly things... When they went to Denerim, she bought a box of them for him.

Sten knows that his brothers that accompanied him here were his some of his closest friends.

But he does not know how this warden managed to gain that title so quickly, given her kind.

If she truly finds his sword and he can return to Parvollen, he will tell the Arishok the truth. Ferelden does not yet need to be invaded, and the Blight is under control.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: The Lady and the Drunk**


	21. The Lady and the Drunk

**I am on fire, ladies and gentlemen!**

**That also probably means this chapter sucks, and it's not very long, but... whatever. I wrote it all today, so I'm bloody posting it today! Deal with it :P**

**Thank you, those who reviewed! I hope you keep on reviewing, so I keep up my writing fire!**

* * *

**Daylen**

He could really give a shit about dwarven politics, he thinks grumpily. In Daylen's opinion, they're ridiculous. Democratic monarchy? It doesn't make sense. Which is why he doesn't care who becomes king, as long as there is one to give him his bloody troops.

Bhelen seems like an ambitious sort, the kind smart enough to handle power and efficiently handle threats. He would probably get the throne eventually; Daylen may as well lend his support.

He's not a dwarf, but he believes that the caste system is rather vain and unrewarding, as they lose much more then they gain as the darkspawn continue their assault. And if Bhelen wants to change that, then more power to him.

That's how he ended up running around as an errand boy.

The market is a lively place in Orzammar. The merchants are loud and cheerful, with beautiful weapons.

At one such merchant, a sparkle catches his eye. When he turns, he sees it is a mirror. A beautiful golden mirror with finely polished glass, adorned with gemstones. On the back is the scene of a deer with sparrows flying about it's head.

It tickles his memory.

_"'Twas encrusted in gold and crystalline gemstones and I hugged it to my chest with delight as I sped back to the Wilds."_

Morrigan, he remembers. She stole a mirror like this from a noble when she was a child. And Flemeth broke it to teach her a lesson.

Making sure not to smudge the glass, he picks up the hand mirror. "How much?" He quietly asks the merchant.

"Thirteen silvers, ser."

He hands the dwarf the silvers, making sure Morrigan doesn't see what he's buying. Then carefully, he puts the bauble into his pouch.

"I have heard much about the halls of the dwarven kings," Leliana comments. "But the stories do it no justice. It is so strange - harsh, yet beautiful."

"Personally, I don't like caves," Daylen replies. "Too many spiders, snakes, and bandits."

"The dwarves have lived here for thousands of years," Leliana points out. "I'm sure it is perfectly safe. And have you seen those tiny pig-like burrowing animals? They are adorable. I wish I could have one as a pet."

"Nugs?"

"Yes," she says. "But they must be hard to catch and... oh, just ignore me. I'm so silly sometimes."

"I dunno," Daylen says with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'm sure they don't eat too much; at least, not as much as that furry monster Avina has."

"Griffon is not a furry monster," Leliana protests. "I mean, he's strong, but he's also cute. He's a very good dog, very intelligent."

"I'm just saying that to be mean," Daylen waves her off. "I'd never say that to his face; he might rip mine off."

Leliana laughs.

When they return to the others, Morrigan is giving him a look. "What was so funny?"

Daylen shrugs again. "Just Avina's dog, with his face-ripping ability." Before she can reply, he pulls the mirror from his pouch and presents it to her. "I found something for you."

"What have you there? A mirror?" Then she recognizes it. "It is... just the same as the mirror Flemeth smashed on the ground, so long ago. It is incredible that you found one so like it. I am uncertain what to say. You must wish something in return, certainly."

He smiles, wrinkles forming at the corner of his eye. "It's a gift," he tells her. "A present for a beautiful woman."

Morrigan gently touches one of the gems, as if afraid they might break. "I have... never received a gift. Not one that did not also come with a price attached. But I would be a fool not to accept such a gesture with grace. Your gift is... most thoughtful. Thank you."

* * *

**Alistair**

Alistair isn't usually the grumpy type, but as he'd been knocked down almost a dozen times today, was forced to carry a limp elf back to camp, and has been chasing Avina through the woods for Maker knows how long.

If he sees one more evil tree, he's going to become a woodcutter when the Blight is over.

Avina is taking the time in the forest better. She's been like a little tornado, gathering everything and stuffing it into her already bulging back. She found ironbark, wolf pelts, and so much elfroot that surely they will never run out. The more important things she carries on herself; like Alistair's rose, which has yet to wilt, and Danyla's scarf.

Just as he's finished cursing the cursed tree in this forest, the large tree before them splits, legs and arms forming.

Avina gives a cry of shock and skitters backward, raising her staff.

The tree doesn't attack.

_"Hrrrrrm,"_ it rumbles._ "What manner of beast be thee,_  
_ that comes before this elder tree?"_

Avina gapes. "You're... not going to attack?"

_"Ah, thou speakest of the others, how filled they are with hate?  
I apologize on their behalf, they cannot control their fate."_

Though the tree itself might be a little frightening, it does seem to be peaceful.

_"Allow me a moment to welcome thee,  
I am called the Grand Oak, sometimes the Elder Tree.  
And unless thou thinkst it far too soon,  
might I ask of thee a boon?"_

"What is this boon?" Avina asks.

_"I have but one desire,  
to solve a matter very dire;  
ss I slept one early morn,  
a thief did come and steal an acorn."_

"Someone stole your acorn?" Avina's brow wrinkles with confusion. "So you want that I should find it for you, then?"

The great tree bows slightly. _"All I have is my being, my seed.  
Without it I am alone indeed.  
I cannot go and seek it out;  
Yet I shall die if left without."_

"Do you know where the thief is?"

_"Go to the east to find this man.  
I will await. Do what thou can."_

* * *

**Daylen**

The Deep Roads are officially Daylen's least favorite place.

Yes, he understands that he needed to fetch Lord Dace, it's important that his vote is changed, blah blah blah.

But seriously. The Deep Roads are dark, cold, and full of darkspawn and deep stalkers. Not his ideal vacation spot, to say the least.

They've just left the old man and his daughter at their estate when Morrigan catches his attention.

"I have something for you."

His brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have a gift for you," she says irritably. She puts something small into his hand. "'Tis a ring. Now before you get any foolish notions, let me explain. Flemeth once gave me the ring because it allowed her to find me no matter where I went, in case I was ever captured by hunters. I disabled it's power as soon as we left the Wilds. Recently, however, I thought to change it. Now, I will be able to find whoever wears it instead."

Daylen smirks at her, curling his fingers around the ring. "That's a sweet gift, Morrigan. Thank you."

Her eyes narrow. "'Tis not given out of sentimentality! I believe you are too important to risk. If you were captured, the ring would allow the rest of us to find you quickly."

He arches a brow at her. "Does it do anything else?"

"Flemeth used to say that 'twas a link between us, one that I presumed worked both ways. I never tested it, but I doubt she would have lied over such a thing. So it would mean I am linked to you as much as you to I."

"Glad to see you care," he chuckles.

"Now you are mocking me." She shakes her head. "Do you wish the ring or not? I am tempted to simply keep it."

He nods, still chuckling, and slides the ring onto his finger. "Thank you for the gift."

"You... are welcome. Perhaps it will be useful one day."

* * *

**Swiftrunner**

Swiftrunner snarls in anger.

The forest did not protect their lair, and the intruders have made it deep into the ruins. The Lady sent the gatekeeper to parlay, and the elf has finally come.

He hates her, this tool of the Dalish. He wants her to die. She killed his brothers. She killed the forest. She should be punished; she should be killed!

As she approaches, he continues to roar in warning at her, telling her the only way he can. Beside him, his brothers and sisters echo him.

There's a soft touch on his shoulder, the scent of spring wind...

His anger calms and he falls to his knees.

_"I bid you welcome, mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest." _

As always, at the sound of his Lady's voice, he is filled with peace.

The elf nods her head, looking curiously at the beautiful being that stands before her. "I am willing to talk. What do you wish to speak about?"

_"No doubt you have questions, mortal. There are things that Zathrian has not told you."_

"What has he not told me?" The elf asks.

_"It was Zathrian who created the curse that these creatures suffer, the same curse that Zathrian's own people now suffer. Centuries ago, when the Dalish came to this land, a tribe of humans lived close to this forest. They sought to drive the Dalish away. Zathrian was a young man then. He had a son and daughter he loved greatly, and while out hunting the human tribe captured them both."_

Swiftrunner can understand this anger. "Hrrrr. The humans... tortured the boy, killed him. The girl they raped and left for dead. The Dalish found her, but she learned later she was... with child. She... killed herself."

The elf looks saddened. "And Zathrian cursed them?"

Swiftrunner takes a few steps forward. "Zathrian came to this ruin and summoned a terrible spirit, binding it to the body of a great wolf. So Witherfang came to be. Witherfang hunted the humans of the tribe. Many were killed, but others were cursed by his blood, becoming twisted and savage creatures..."

_"Twisted and savage just as Witherfang himself is."_

"Deceit is the nature of men," the large warrior states.

_"They were driven into the forest. When the human tribe finally left for good, their cursed brethren remained, pitiful and mindless animals."_

Swiftrunner goes to a knee beside her. "Until I found you, my Lady. You gave me peace."

_"I showed Swiftrunner that there was another side to his bestial nature. I soothed his rage, and his humanity emerged. And he brought others to me."_

"Why did you ambush the Dalish, then?" the elf asks. "For revenge?"

_"In part. We seek to end the curse. The crimes committed against Zathrian's children were grave, but they were committed centuries ago by those who are long dead. Word was sent to Zathrian every time the landships passed this way, asking him to come, but he has always ignored us. We will not longer be denied."_

"Hrrr!" Swiftrunner growls. "We spread the curse to his people! So he must end the curse to save them!"

_"Please, mortal... you must go to him. Bring him here. If he sees these creatures, hears their plight... surely he will agree to end the curse!"_

"I will speak to him," the elf promises. "I will try to bring him here."

_"Tell him if he refuses, I will ensure that Witherfang is never found. He will never cure his clan. Outside of this chamber, the passage leading back to the surface has been opened for you. Return with Zathrian as soon as you can."_

* * *

**Daylen**

Daylen sighs. And back into the Deep Roads they go...

A red-haired dwarf with a braided mustache on either side of his mouth approaches them as they near the entrance. "Stranger," he says. "have you seen a Grey Warden hereabouts? I've been privy to the rumor that he... or was it she - you understand this was many mugs ago - was searching for Branka on Lord Bhelen's own command."

"I'm that Grey Warden," Daylen explains.

The dwarf looks him up and down. "Well, if you're the best they've got, then standards must have fallen way down. But I suppose that would account for a human being down here. Say, could I ask you a favor?"

"Why not?" Daylen replies. "Everyone else does."

"Name's Ohgren," he introduces. "And if you've ever heard of me before, it's probably all been about how I piss ale and kill little boys who look at me wrong." He chuckles. "And that's mostly true, but the part they never say is how I'm the only one who still trying to save our only Paragon. And if you're looking for Branka, I'm the only one who knows what she was looking for, which might be pretty sodding helpful in finding her."

So far, Daylen likes him. "Why haven't you gone after her yourself, then?"

"Believe me, I have. But where she was going, it's a lost thaig. No one's seen it in centuries. I searched as far as I could, but... It would take teams of warriors searching weeks on end to cover enough ground to hope to find it. Which, I assume, is what Bhelen's men have done. And they shared what they found with you. But they haven't found Branka herself, and that means whatever they've got, it's not enough if you don't know what she was looking for. If we pool our knowledge, we stand a chance of finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck."

Daylen laughs. "Don't I have enough lunatics following me around?"

"Perfect," Oghren booms. "What's one more? Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void. Might have been the most important invention in Orzammar's history. The smith Caridin built it, and with it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace, while it was protected by the golems created on the Anvil. As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in the old Ortan Thaig. Branka planned to start looking there, if she could ever find it. All she knew was that it was past Caridin's Cross. No one's seen that thaig for five hundred years."

"I have a map to Caridin's Cross," Daylen tells him.

"If we're going, let's get moving. Branka's not going to sodding find herself."

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter:** **Ruin**


	22. Ruin

**Hey, all! This chapter is kinda short, but I thought I'd post it anyway since I haven't posted in a while. I'm not exactly happy with it; I may still change it.**

**Fair warning: this is where it really starts. Where my plot begins.**

**I probably won't have another chapter up until after New Years, but I'll try if you guys leave me reviews.**

* * *

**Swiftrunner**

The she-elf returns sooner than they anticipated. Instead of taking a couple hours, it takes only minutes for her to return with Zathrian.

Seeing him makes Swiftrunner's blood boil in his veins, and he bares his teeth as he approaches. Zathrian walks with a confident, somewhat arrogant stride ahead of the female and her group, as if he thinks himself invincible.

"And he you are, spirit," he says to the Lady when he comes to a stop before them.

In moments Swiftrunner is towering over the puny Keeper. "Hrrr! She is the Lady of the Forest! You will address her properly!"

Zathrian only frowns as Swiftrunner returns to his place beside the Lady.

"You've taken a name, spirit? And you've given names to your pets? These... beasts who follow you?" Zathrian says.

_"It was they who gave me a name, Zathrian. And the names they take are their own. They follow me because I help them to find who they are."_

Zathrian's face hardens. "Who they are has not changed from whom their ancestors were. Wild savages! Worthless dogs! Their twisted shapes only mirror their monstrous hearts!"

The she-elf looks angry at this. Perhaps she agrees.

"He will not help us, Lady!" Swiftrunner interrupts before he can attack her. "It is as I warned you! He is not here to talk!"

"No," Zathrian disagrees. "I am here to talk, though I see little point in it. We all know where this will lead. Your nature compels it, as does mine."

_"It does not have to be that way,"_ the Lady breaths, taking a step towards Zathrian. Swiftrunner tenses. _"There is room in your heart for compassion, Zathrian. Surely your retribution is spent."_

"My retribution is eternal, spirit," he spits, and the Lady turns away from him to return to her place beside Swiftrunner. "As is my pain. This is justice, no more."

_"Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end the curse? Have you told the mortal how it was created?"_

"He merely said he summoned you and bound you to a wolf," the she-elf says.

_"And so he did. Witherfang and I are bound as one being. But such powerful magic could not be accomplished without Zathrian's own blood. Your people believe you have rediscovered the immortality of their ancestors, Zathrian, but that is not true. So long as the curse exists, so do you."_

"No!" He denies. "That is not how it is!"

"How far will you go for revenge, Zathrian?" the she-elf demands.

"I did it for my people," he snaps back. "I did it for my son, and my daughter! For them, for justice, I would do anything!"

_"The curse would not end with Zathrian's death,"_ the Lady explains._ "His life, however, relies on it's existence. And I believe his death plays a part in it's ending."_

Swiftrunner leans forward in anticipation. "Then we kill him! We tear him apart now!"

Zathrian's eyes narrow in disgust. "For all your powers of speech, you are beasts still! What would you gain from killing me? Only I know how the ritual ends, and I will never do it!"

Swiftrunner crouches angrily. "You see? We must kill them all!" Tear them apart, Zathrian, the she-elf, and the rest of the Dalish!

Zathrian turns to the she-elf. "You see? They turn on you as quickly. Do what you have come here to do, Grey Warden, or get out of my way!"

But instead of attacking them, she turns her back to Swiftrunner to face Zathrian, putting herself between the Lady and the Keeper as she draws her staff. "You will end the curse if I must force you!"

Her human companion moves to stand beside her. "We're standing for what's right, here. No matter what."

They are... protecting them?

"Then you die with them!" Zathrian spits, backing away. "All of you will suffer as you deserve!"

Beside him, the Lady changes into Witherfang, giving a mournful howl as Zathrian prepares his spell. The other werewolves ready themselves, but it is too late.

He releases his spell before they can react, and it is as if Swiftrunner is in a horrible nightmare. His body will not obey him; he is frozen to the spot. Around him, he sees his brothers and sisters are, too.

The only ones who are capable of movement are the she-elf, her companions, and Zathrian.

Swiftrunner prays it is enough.

* * *

**Alistair**

Once Zathrian attacks, it's as if the wrath of the Fade breaks loose.

Trees that once stood motionless on either side of the room snap into monstrous sylvans that attempt to skewer them with their roots. Demonic shades appear behind them, and Alistair barely has enough time to warn them before they attack with claws as sharp and cold as death. And Zathrian's own skills with magic are fueled by not only centuries of knowledge, but also his blood.

Alistair cannot help but feel they are outmatched.

The sylvans light up with flames, Avina's magic angering them and turning their attention towards her. Sten shouts something in Qunlat as he swings his greatsword into the back of an attacking shade. Zevran is a flurry of movement and daggers, almost invisible with speed. And Alistair can feel the magic that Avina has cast over them, protecting them.

It is still not enough.

The sylvans, now flaming, knock Avina backward with a backhand and she lands painfully on her back. Before Alistair can help her, the other catches him within it's roots, stabbing into his armor and bared flesh. The werewolves stand frozen behind them; they are no help. And if Sten leaves his place, the Lady of the Forest will be vulnerable. And no offence to Zevran, but he wasn't _that_ skilled.

Avina scrambles to her feet, her lip bleeding and her robes torn in places. Alistair can see in her eyes the terror of losing this battle; they cannot die here. They cannot. Their only hope would have been their allies who are locked in place behind them. It would take intense magic to undo it.

Alistair knows what it coming when Zathrian starts to sweep his arms in preparation, his staff glowing icy blue. Once he releases the spell, they will all freeze.

He does not expect what happens next.

Avina carries a small blade on the back of her belt. It's something she's always done, in case of emergencies. Now, she pulls that blade free, and at that moment Alistair cannot believe she hopes to fight them at close combat like that. It's only a small dagger, after all.

Then she slides it across her palm.

Red explodes around her, pulsing with energy, and with a wave of her arms and a scream of rage the light that's been trapping the werewolves dissolves.

And they charge into battle.

The sylvans are no match for the pack. The wolves rip them to splinters while Avina turns her attention back to Zathrian.

Now free, Alistair can only watch, dumbfounded, as Avina uses Zathrian's surprise as an advantage, using the power of her blood to drain him. The Keeper stumbles, stunned; the fist of stone knocking him down to his knees just as the werewolves close in on him.

"No," he cries weakly. "No more. I cannot... cannot defeat you..."

"Finish it," Swiftrunner urges. "Kill him now."

_"No, Swiftrunner. We will not kill him. If there is no room in our hearts for mercy, how may we expect there to be room in his?"_

"I cannot do as you ask, spirit. I am too old... to know mercy." He slowly regains his feet. "All I see are the faces of my children, my people. I... cannot do it."

"Hahren," Avina says quietly. "You have caused much suffering. Melana en athim las enaste. Your people are dying for this."

Slowly, he meets her gaze with saddened eyes, eyes that have known centuries of pain, of loss... And Alistair wonders what it is Avina has said to him. "Perhaps I have... lived too long. This hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root... it has consumed my soul." He turns to the Lady. "What of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse just as I am. Do you not fear your end?"

_"You are my maker, Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life. Yet of all things I desire nothing more than an end. I beg you, maker... put an end to me. _We_ beg you... show mercy."_

"You shame me, spirit. I am an old man, alive long past his time."

_"Then you will do it? You will end the curse?"_

"Yes," he says finally. "I think it is time. Let us... let us put an end to it all."

The werewolves surrounding the Lady look at her sadly, not wanting to lose her, but also longing for freedom.

Her endless dark eyes look into Swiftrunner's, placing a rooted hand on his shoulder, before at last turning back to Zathrian and nodding. She is ready.

Zathrian's staff lifts off the ground, then comes back down with finality and an ancient magic that flows outward from his body and through the room.

His knees give out, and he falls into Avina's arms.

"Serannas, Hahren," she whispers. "You've saved them. You've saved them all."

The tiniest smile graces his face, and his old brown eyes close forever.

* * *

**Morrigan**

She only starts to notice that something is wrong when she does not bleed.

They've been down in the Deep Roads for a few days now, endlessly fighting darkspawn and deep stalkers, searching for any sign of Branka.

And she realizes that it has been five weeks since she last bled.

Strange...

It causes an unknown, unpleasant feeling deep within her, a knot of unease. Like dread.

Perhaps it's just the deep mushrooms.

* * *

**Avina**

None of her companions speak on the way back to the Dalish camp. They say nothing when they move through the camp to meet Lanaya, the new Keeper.

They say nothing, and Avina fears it is because after all this time, she has proven to be the monster they feared mages could be.

She had a choice. And she made it. She'd rather have them alive and hating her, then respecting her and dead.

They have yet to say anything at all when they stop and set up their own camp. She suspects that Alistair won't allow her to be anywhere near him, so she sets up her own tent once more.

"Planning for a guest?"

With a yelp of surprise, Avina whirls around. Alistair is smiling down at her, one eyebrow raised at her actions.

"No," she whispers. "I thought..."

He crosses his arms. "I'm very hurt. You think so little of me?"

Her brow furrows. "But... I'm a... a blood mage."

"Yes," he agrees. "And I'm an ex-Templar. Does that bother you?"

"No, but-"

"And one of three surviving Grey Wardens. And a prince." He looks her in the eye. "We can't die. If we do, Ferelden will fall. That's why you did it, right?"

Avina stares at him blankly.

"As long as you don't go around consorting with demons, you are very important, both to Ferelden, and to me." He presses a kiss to her forehead. "Put it away," he says, gesturing to the tent. "Please."

For once, she doesn't think to argue.

* * *

**Morrigan**

Morrigan has seen many horrors.

After all, she's the daughter of Flemeth, Witch of the Wilds. She has seen men die in the most gruesome ways, killed men herself in gruesome ways. She has fought darkspawn. She has been covered in their burning, wretched blood.

And yet, nothing she has ever seen can compare to this...

The Broodmother.

The knowledge that this was once a dwarven woman, a normal girl, is possibly one of the most frightening things about this creature. Massive, like a fattened spider with tentacles and short, flabby arms. She has no hair, her grey skin all deadened and sickly, and her lower half is so large Morrigan can't even see her legs. They're likely crushed beneath her.

But Morrigan is not squeamish. After the things she has seen, she can't afford to be.

So when the monster finally slumps, dead at last, and Morrigan suddenly becomes sick on the bloody stone floor, she knows something is wrong. She lurches over, her hands grip the cold stone, sweat dripping down her temples. This can't be happening.

Her stomach lurches, but there's nothing left in her to throw up. Instead she cries out as her insides twist. Daylen is beside her in an instant, supporting her in his strong arms, asking her what's wrong. His soothing hands brush the hair out of her face, and he kisses her forehead as she recovers, gasping for breath.

Something is wrong. This isn't Blight sickness; she's seen Blight sickness before, in some of those who died in the Wilds. It wasn't like this.

She's had food poisoning before. She's been sick. This isn't that bad, but it's different, and that means it's something she's never experienced.

Wynne rushes over to her, her hands glowing blue. Morrigan only pushes her away, sitting up with a huff. "'Tis nothing," she insists. "Just the deep mushrooms I ate."

They don't seem to believe her, but they give her a lyrium potion and leave her alone.

As they set up camp, Morrigan stands guard on one end of the tunnel, looking down at her traitorous body in disbelief, one hand resting on her abdomen.

It can't be.

The vial of lyrium in her hand smashes against the stone wall of the thaig, dripping glowing blue liquid down the wall.

Her hands clench into fists. Everything she'd been trained for, everything her mother had planned, everything she had planned... ruined.

It should have been impossible. Yet it's there, real and alive and undeniable.

She is pregnant.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: A New King**


	23. A New King

**Each chapter is becoming harder and harder to write, because it's mostly not my plot and that means its more boring. Forgive me if the chapters are choppy and short; I can't help it.**

**Thank you gerson, bootkr00, discostu10, Urazz, Amy, Judy, and ImagineBagginsDragon for your reviews! You guys are so awesome, your support means so much to me.**

* * *

**Daylen**

Something is different about Morrigan. He can tell.

The look she has about her reminds him of when she discovered how Flemeth achieved immortality. Disturbed. Pale. Almost... afraid.

Very few things can scare a woman like Morrigan.

He's not afraid to admit that he's kind of afraid of whatever it is that Morrigan is afraid of.

... And he feels as though Oghren might be rubbing off on him.

And speaking of Oghren, Daylen has to admit he's a fantastic warrior, even though he's always drunk off his arse. That is an incredible feat in Daylen's opinion at least; he can't swing an axe properly when he's sober.

He's a good man. His wife, on the other hand...

When they first meet Branka, the Paragon everyone has been looking for, Daylen must admit he's disappointed.

For one, she's mad. Absolutely and totally off her rocker. Lost her marbles. Stark raving mad.

Sodding Anvil of the Void.

Another thing, she prefers the ladies. Not that Daylen judges; at least, until they're married to a man.

He makes a mental note to buy Oghren a drink later. Perhaps that'll lift the old chap's spirits.

But it's not only the fact that she's clearly insane that makes him think twice about giving her the accursed thing. But the fact that Shale fought to destroy it in her unknown past, trusted this former Paragon Caridin, also stops him.

He groans mentally. Really, he almost wishes he could go back to not caring. Crazy or not, Branka's dangerous.

But he can't bring himself to argue with what he knows is the right thing to do.

Beside him, Oghren pleads with him to give it to her, so that maybe she'll calm down and see sense. Daylen only shakes his head; that is never a good idea.

No matter how hurt Oghren is, Branka must be stopped.

He does not feel guilty as he stands over her corpse, her face still frozen in her fury.

Daylen sighs, wiping a hand over his eyes. He just spent... what? Three days in the Deep Roads? For what?

He spent all that time tracking her down... to kill her.

Maybe he'll order himself a drink along with Oghren's.

At least Caridin is good enough to forge a golden crown for them. A crown fit for a king; the future king of Orzammar.

Anyway, it's time to return. He's got a crown, and he's not afraid to use it.

* * *

**Avina**

She jolts awake, still hearing the roar of the dragon in her ears as her heart pounds.

Arms wrap protectively around her, and for a moment, she's startled, until she realizes it's only Alistair.

"You awake," he breathes. "Did you... did you feel it too? It was like the archdemon saw us. Saw us! What does that mean?"

"I think-" she starts. Alistair shushes her.

"Did you hear that?"

The pair burst out of the tent just in time for Zevran to call out a warning, and for Sten to give a battle cry.

The camp is surrounded.

Avina only has time to be grateful that one doesn't need a sword to cast magic.

* * *

**Daylen**

Daylen is beyond relieved to be back out of the Deep Roads. So happy, he doesn't go straight to the Council Chamber, instead taking the party straight to the pub.

Only long enough to down his second drink, however; he doesn't want to stumble in drunk.

He walks into the assembly like he's above it; and to be fair, he is most of the time. Oghren and the others follow behind him, giving him a more intimidating presence in the room.

He interrupts their argument, but a quick flash of the golden crown Caridin created stuns any protesters into silence.

"He told me to give it to whomever _I_ chose," he tells them. "And I choose Prince Bhelen."

Orzammar finally has a king. His work here is done.

* * *

"Grey Warden, you have impressed the best of us."

Daylen stops to regard Kardol.

"If I'd heard it second hand, I'd have called it a sodding lie," the dwarf admits. "Warden, we've got a king because of you. The ret, impressive, but the Legion is grateful most for restored leadership. It frees us to fight to the darkspawn properly."

Daylen flashes him a smile. "Can I count on seeing you on the surface, to fight this Blight by my side?"

Kardol shakes his head. "Nay, our place is down here. When you break the Blight, and you've got the skill, we'll make sure they have nowhere to retreat. You'll have us indirectly. That's more than any surface can say."

"Come on, Kardol!" Daylen persuades. "We need you topside! Show the world your skill!"

Kardol chuckles. "You alone have the skill to back up your words. Each of the Legion owes our homeland a death, but if our lives are better shed on the surface, so be it! Back to Orzammar when we win, though. I'll not stay topside to lose my stone sense."

"We can't have that!"

* * *

Daylen figured Oghren'd have a hard time leaving his home. So when they finally leave, the doors shutting behind them, and Oghren stops, he's not surprised.

Oghren looks up at the sky with a sigh. "Give me a moment."

"Take your time."

"By the Stone," Oghren breathes. "I feel like I'm about to fall of the world with al that sky up there."

If he's being perfectly honest, Orzammar made Daylen a bit claustrophobic. "Is it really that strange to you?"

"Strange?" Oghren gives a huff. "Strange is your wife turning out to prefer the ladies. Not living in a world without a bleeding ceiling. Well, let's get moving. We're losing... whatchacallit? Daylight."

Daylen laughs, clapping Oghren on the back. "Alright, then."

But among the camps of the merchants camped outside Orzammar's entrance, he sees a set of familiar tents, with a few familiar figures wandering around.

"Well, it's about damned time you showed up."

He turns to see Avina's playful face. "We were about to head on in after you!" She tells him.

She pulls him into a hug, and for a moment he's so surprised he doesn't react.

Then, with a grin, he enthusiastically returns the embrace, lifting her off the ground. "Miss me that much, Freckles?"

She wheezes, pretending to be dying. "Hardly, Prat!"

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next Chapter: What Remains**


	24. What Remains

**OHMYGOSH.**

**TheTasteofColors, you are a beast! **

**For those who don't know, she drew us another picture of Avina! If you haven't already, go check out her DeviantArt! Or else... I might kill your favorite character! MUAHAHAHAHA!**

**Probably not. **

**But this chapter is dedicated to her, for her mad art skillz! I stayed up way too late writing it, so there's probably a bunch of errors.**

**Another HUGE thank you to those who reviewed. I'm looking at you, Urazz, Judy, ImagineBagginsDragon, and Alkeni (A new reviewer! Yay!). You guys rock!**

**Anyway, ONTO THE CHAPTAH.**

* * *

**Avina**

She's got to admit, it's good to see everyone again.

She missed them. Even Morrigan. Even Daylen.

Wynne and Leliana especially. Avina doesn't know if she ever had any family other than her mother that she has only faint memory of, but she thinks Leliana is like a sister to her. And Wynne is a comfort, as she grew up learning from Wynne. She considers Wynne to be like a mother to her.

So as soon as Daylen sets up camp with them, she hurries over to see her.

"You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?" Wynne asks her.

A slight blush heats her cheeks. "Oh... you know about Alistair and me?"

"It's hard not to notice the doe-eyed looks he gives you, especially when he thinks no one's watching. It's almost too sweet for my tastes, and I'm an old lady who should be making lace hearts and fuzzy blankets with animal motifs."

"You're hardly the average old lady," Avina points out.

Wynne smiles. "No, I won't be making socks with pom-poms for you anytime soon, but that's hardly my point. I've noticed your blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going. Alistair is a fine lad, skilled in battle, but quite inexperienced when it comes to the affairs of the heart. I would hate to see him get hurt."

Avina takes half a step back, hurt coloring her features. "You think I'll hurt Alistair?"

"Not intentionally," Wynne amends. "No. But there is great potential for tragedy here, for one or both of you. You are both Grey Wardens, and he is the son of a king. You have responsibilities which supercede your personal desires. Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?"

Tears start to sting her eyes. "I don't want to make that decision."

Wynne crosses her arms. "Nothing is certain, not in these times. You cannot take anything for granted. I want you to be aware of this."

"Are you telling me I should leave Alistair?" Avina chokes.

"You may have to, to save one or both of you unnecessary anguish later on."

"I am not giving up what Alistair and I have, no matter what you say," Avina insists.

"I have given my advice. Do with it what you will."

Giving her one last hurt look, Avina turns and bolts back to her tent.

Alistair is inside, sleeping peacefully, but when he hears her enter he wakes, sitting up. "What's wrong?"

Wordlessly, she throws herself into his arms, curling up in his lap as the tears started to flow.

Alistair rubs her back soothingly. "It's alright," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her crown. He holds her like that until she calms, and falls asleep in his arms.

* * *

It's scary, knowing they're so close to facing Loghain, so close to facing the Blight.

Avina hopes they're ready. They're certainly in a better mood when she rises in the morning.

Most of the group seems to be getting along, finally. Morrigan and Alistair know to avoid each other, and Zevran is much more sensitive to others' feelings. It's probably because of the gloves she gifted him, but she'll take improvement when she can get it.

Oghren is not as bad as he first seemed to her, she must admit. He's rather fun, actually. And the things that come out of his mouth...

For example, that morning Alistair exits their tent and goes over to ask Oghren about the berserker fighting technique, when the dwarf just chuckles.

"So," he rumbles. "With the boss, aye?"

Alistair's eyebrows shoot up. "Pardon?"

"You and the boss. Rolling your oats."

At that point, Avina pokes her head out of the tent, confused.

"I don't know-" Alistair protests.

"Polishing the footstones," Oghren says suggestively.

"-what you're-"

"Tapping the midnight still, if you will." Oghren lets out a laugh.

Alistair looks almost horrified. "What are you going on about?"

"Forging the moaning statue. Bucking the forbidden horse. Donning the velvet hat. Eh?"

"Are you just making these up right now?"

Oghren shakes his head. "Nope. Been saving 'em." Then he looks around, as if checking to make sure no one's looking. "What do you do with her legs?"

"Whose legs?"

Oghren jerks his chin towards their tent. "Her legs. That's the thing about dwarven legs; they're worthless as an accessory."

"I didn't do anything with them," Alistair says, bewildered. "I don't know what-"

"Ah, say no more. Just got 'em outta the way and went about your business. Good on you, son." Oghren pats him on the back.

"Uhm. Thanks."

Avina ducks back into the tent then, her face so red she must resemble a tomato.

He's even more vulgar than Zevran.

* * *

When she reemerges, Daylen gives her a strange look. "What happened?"

She blinks. "What?"

"You spoke with Wynne last night, and seemed upset afterward," he tells her. "Ooh, I see what went on. Did she give you the relationship lecture, too?"

"She gave _you_ one?"

"Oh, yes," he says. "About how I'm being selfish about being with Morrigan, and she's probably manipulating me for evil and things."

"Oh," Avina huffs. "Then... yes."

He pats her shoulder. "Don't worry too much about it. She's just worried about you two. She wants to protect you."

Avina sighs. "I guess I know that already, but... it still hurt."

He makes an exaggerated horrified expression. "Will you die?"

"Uh... no."

"Then suck it up."

She swats at him, even though she knows he's just messing with her. "You're such a _prat!"_

He ducks easily, avoiding the slaps aimed his way. "Hurry up, now. We'd best get a move on."

* * *

Strangely enough, Zevran seems to have taken a shine to Oghren. Avina had never seen an elf and a dwarf get along; she knew it was possible, of course, but... They get along quite well, and it's rather fun to watch them interact.

The two walk next to each other as they make their way over Lake Calenhad when Zevran cocks his head to the side. "I think I have a joke for you, my fine dwarven friend."

Oghren seems to be in one of his angry drunk moods. "Just don't expect me to laugh."

Zevran grins. "So, a human, an elf, and a dwarf are walking down a trail beside a stream, and they stop to take a piss."

This seems to brighten Oghren's spirits. "Alright. Things are looking up. Continue."

"After, the human takes out some soap and begins washing his hands. "We humans have learned how to be clean and hygienic," he says to the others. The elf begins picking some leaves off the trees and wipes his hands with them. "We elves do as tradition has taught us and use what nature has provided." The dwarf, meanwhile, has pulled up his trousers and is already on his way down the trail. "And our ancestors," he calls back, "taught us dwarves not to piss on our hands!"" And he lets out a loud guffaw.

Avina snorts with laughter, trying to cover it with a cough as Alistair gives her an odd look.

"He he he. Shows you what you know about dwarves," Oghren says approvingly.

It's quiet for a few moments, until they start quietly chatting amongst themselves.

Wynne catches up with Alistair, matching his stride. "Alistair, may I have a word?"

He flashes her a lopsided smile. "Of course, anything for my second favorite mage."

"It seems you and our fearless leader are inseparable these days," she notes. "Joined at the hip, almost."

"That's a bit of an overstatement, don't you think?"

"Well then, now that you're in an intimate relationship, you should learn about where babies _really_ come from."

Alistair looks at her strangely. "Pardon?"

"I know the Chantry says you dream about your babies and the good Fade spirits take them out of the Fade and leave them in your arms... but that's not true. Actually what happens is that when a girl and a boy _really_ love each other -"

"Andraste's flaming sword!" Alistair cuts her off. "I know where babies come from!"

"Do you? Do you really?" Wynne asks, feigning surprise.

"I certainly _hope_ so," Alistair squeaks.

"Oh, all right then. Aww, look, you're all red and mottled. How cute."

Alistair's eyes narrow. "You did that on purpose!"

"Now, now Alistair, why would I do such a thing?"

"Because you're wicked," Alistair accuses. "That frail old lady act? I'm _so_ not fooled. I'm on to you now."

_"Shhhh!"_ Daylen hisses suddenly, and everyone shuts up. He waves them over to were he stands at the top of a hill, looking down on Bann Loren's lands.

Below them is a group of men, guards by the look of them, surrounding a man in fine garments.

His face tickles Avina's memory...

Before she can move, one of the guards stabs him right through the chest and marches off with the others, leaving him for dead.

Daylen sighs. "Alright, let's see what this is about."

Carefully, the group makes their way down to the injured man to get a better look at him. He's still breathing, Avina notes with relief. It would be horrible trying to get information from his corpse alone.

There is no mistaking it, however. He will die. A wound like that cannot be healed by magic, and bandages will not be enough to save him.

As Avina moves closer, the man's face is unmistakable. She knew she recognized him. Elric, she thinks his name was. He was one of Cailan's guards at Ostagar.

Elric sits up. "I didn't expect the Bann's men to notice my escape so quickly. I tried to hide here in the woods, but there wasn't time. And now I'm a dead man."

Daylen tilts his head. "There wasn't time?"

Elric looks closer at Daylen, recognition lighting in his eyes. "You were there at Ostagar," he realizes. "You know how things went. It was either this, or die in some darkspawn's belly, or... or be hung as a deserter.

"You deserted?" Avina asks.

"I daresay most people think the same of you and me, if not worse," Alistair points out.

"I fled the battlefield when Loghain betrayed us," Elric continues. "I abandoned my men, and they died, and Cailan with them. He was my king, my friend. Maker. All that time in Bann Loren's prison and I couldn't stop thinking about all they suffered that one dark night at Ostagar..."

"It's not your fault they died," Avina soothes.

"I know. Even had Loghain's men not turned their backs on us, the darkspawn were too many. Even Cailan, for all his bravado, knew there would be no victory at Ostagar. The king entrusted me with the key to the royal arms chest. If anything were to happen to him, he said, it was vital I deliver it to the Wardens."

"Then why didn't he just give the key to Duncan?" Daylen demands.

"He didn't get the chance. Duncan was so busy with the new recruits and keeping Loghain at bay. Whatever his reasoning, it's me Cailan entrusted it to."

"The royal arms chest," Alistair breathes. "It's where Cailan kept his father's sword, the one he always said he'd slay the archdemon with."

"Do you still have the key?" Daylen asks.

"The Maker has a sense of humor, doesn't he?" Elric muses. "I suppose it's for the best, however - had I kept it, it would be in Bann Loren's hands by now."

"But," Wynne interrupts, "you said Cailan entrusted it to you!"

"I was afraid. I thought I would lose it on the battlefield, so I stashed it in the camp. Please," Elric begs. "It's probably still there."

Daylen's brow furrowed. "Where?"

"The key's behind a loose stone in the base of a statue. I'll draw a map for you so you know where to search."

Avina offered him a parchment, and he shakily drew a rough sketch of the Ostagar camp with an X where the key was supposed to be.

"You'll be taking me along, won't you?" Alistair says. "Call me sentimental, but I left behind some darkspawn that really deserve a sword through the middle."

Avina nods gravely. "I would not deny you that opportunity."

"The events at Ostagar still haunt my thoughts, Wardens. If that is where we are headed, I would like to accompany you."

"It is vital that the king's documents do not fall into the wrong hands. As for Maric's sword, it's too powerful to be pawed at by those monsters. Same for the king's other arms and armor. And..." Elric's breath is becoming labored; he doesn't have much time. "And if you happen to find Cailan's body, see it off. He was our king. He shouldn't be left to rot amidst the darkspawn's filth."

He exhales, falling backward, eyes still open.

Avina closes his lids before she leaves, the group going back the way they came.

Elric was right. It is important that they retrieve this key and find Cailan's armor.

More than that, they need peace.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next Chapter: Secrets Kept**


	25. Secrets Kept

**Oh my lord, this chapter was such a bitch.**

**But here we are.**

**It's short and choppy, but it's the best I've got right now. Hopefully the next few chapters will be better. If only I could get my damn muse working again!**

**Another huge thank you to all the people who left reviews, and those who favorited and are following this story. It means more than you know.**

**If you guys could help me out, I'd really appreciate it. I'm torn between three endings for this story: **

**One, the happy but slightly unrealistic ending. **

**Two, the sad but realistic ending. **

**Three, the brutally sad ending. **

**Let me know how you think it should go!**

* * *

**Morrigan**

Morrigan does not join them in their return to Ostagar, feigning illness. It's not difficult; after all they believe she was sick in the Deep Roads.

She needs a plan.

Every day Daylen's child grows inside her. And every day she becomes more and more worried of what is to come.

She cannot simply kill the child. She considered it, but was struck with such pain at the thought; she _wants_ the child. She loves him.

And that leaves her without options.

The final battle will not come in time to save the Grey Wardens.

And she cannot help but worry she will lose Daylen. She knows him too well to think he would let one of his comrades die in his place.

Avina, as well, would hurt Morrigan to lose. She never would have thought, but the elven woman with her innocent smile and endless loyalty has grown on her. Avina would take an arrow to save any one of her companions, especially Alistair.

And it would break Avina to lose the blond oaf.

She must think. She cannot carry the soul that will save them...

Then it occurs to her.

Even if she cannot, someone else may.

* * *

**Avina**

The cold preserved Cailan's body enough to be easily recognizable by them.

When at last they take his corpse down, Avina can't help but feel sick as she looks at him.

The darkspawn took every bit of his armor, leaving him in only his smallclothes. His ribs are crushed, his entire body black and blue from the horrible battle. His face is the only thing that is left untouched.

They found the armor scattered around the camp, in the hands of numerous darkspawn.

It isn't easy to start his pyre in the cold, but with three mages they manage.

Alistair stands beside her, his expression a mix of anger and grief. Avina has no doubt that her face matches.

Her hand finds his, hers cold while his is warm.

They leave Ostagar, and never look back, Alistair carrying his dead brother's armor in his arms.

* * *

There are only a few things left to do before they face Loghain and the might of the darkspawn horde.

Avina tracked Sten's sword to Dwyn; all she must do to return it to him is go to Redcliffe and get Dwyn to hand it over.

Leliana has someone she needs to see in Denerim. Oghren has an old flame at Lake Calenhad.

Griffon wants a lamb bone.

And Avina will be damned if they do not get their final wishes!

Well, not _final_ final. She hopes...

Maybe she shouldn't have accepted that drink from Oghren.

She just loves them all sooo much; and she knows there's a possibility that some of them could die during this Blight. In fact, it's rather likely. So just in case... she should do everything she can for them.

Leliana comes to sit beside Avina's place by the fire, a sly grin on her face. "So, you and Alistair..."

Avina blinks and looks over at her. "Yes?"

"You and Alistair," she repeats. "Together, looking contented. You even have a... glow about you. So shameless."

Confused, Avina looks at her skin. "I'm not glowing."

"Of course you aren't. Leliana's just seeing things again, isn't she?" Leliana smiles, like she knows a secret. "So, how is Alistair...?"

Avina glances over at him. He's sitting not far away, arguing with Sten. "He looks fine to me."

Leliana nudges her shoulder playfully. "You know what I mean. Alistair and you... those long nights. He must be quite delightful... you wouldn't be so happy otherwise, I think."

Avina thinks about this for a moment.

Oh. Her cheeks flush.

In the beginning, they were both rather new to... those kind of things. It was painful at first, but Alistair was so gentle with her. He made sure he did absolutely everything he could to make it good for her.

"He's athletic," Leliana continues. "That's always nice. He is also good at following instructions, isn't he?"

Avina smiles dreamily. "Yes. I'm very happy with his performance."

Leliana grins widely. "Ooh, fascinating. The little templar is all grown up and apparently he... ahem... plays well with others."

The two burst into giggles.

When she looks up, Alistair is standing beside them, looking almost terrified. "What are you giggling about? W-what is she giggling about?"

Avina covers her mouth to stifle the laughter. "Just... you. And your 'performance'."

He looks confused, and it's just so adorable that Avina wants to snuggle him.

Maybe she will.

"My performance? What performance? And why does it warrant giggling?"

Leliana manages to pull her expression together. "We're just talking about how you treat her in bed. Nothing you should concern yourself with."

Alistair's eyes go wide. "How I t- Oh, Maker... What is wrong with you women?"

Maybe it's the drink, but Avina thinks this is the funniest thing in the world.

With a sigh, Alistair picks her up and carries her back to the tent, laying her on the bedroll so she can sleep it off.

"You really do treat me well," Avina sighs. "You make me so happy."

Alistair can't help but smile. "I'm glad." He brushes a strand of her hair out of her face. "I love you."

Her eyes close, that dreamy smile still on her face. "I love you too."

* * *

**Daylen**

"Morrigan, is something wrong?"

She hasn't seemed any better since the Deep Roads, and the longer she's silent the more he worries.

If something is bothering her, he wants to know what it is, and if he can help.

There's a flare of panic in Morrigan's eyes as she looks up, surprised. "It is..." She doesn't finish, covering her face with her hands. When she looks at him again, he can swear her eyes are shining. "I warned you, did I not? I told you that this was a weakness that was driving me mad. And yet you insisted."

"Why are you so afraid of this?" He demands.

She sighs. "'Tis all so... unexpected. I have no experience with any of it. And yet I find myself wanting it. Hungering for it. For you." She shakes her head. "That is not right, is it? That is not how a normal woman acts,? I can see it in your eyes."

When he goes to touch her, she takes a step back, and he drops his hand.

"Release me," she says weakly. "Tell me that you wish to end this. Make me believe you and I... will be grateful."

In another life, he might have done as she asked. If he didn't care for her as deeply as he did.

And he doesn't even care. Sod it all, he loves her. And he isn't about to let that get away.

"I can't," he tells her. She looks stunned. "I don't want this to end."

She says nothing for a moment.

Then she surges forward, her hand lashing out to slap him across the cheek. "You miserable selfish bastard!"

But when he turns his head back to look at her, her anger melts.

She meets him halfway as he reaches for her, her hands going to his face to pull him to her.

It is, perhaps, their first kiss that is about them and how they feel about each rather than physical release.

When she pulls back, she still looks troubled. "You will regret this. And so will I. And... perhaps that is how it must be."

He doesn't push further, but he knows something is still eating at her. If she's not willing to tell, he'll wait.

Just a little longer.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: The Landsmeet Part 1**


	26. The Landsmeet Part 1

**AT LAST, they arrive in Denerim.**

**Lots of in game dialogue in this chapter; it certainly made it a lot easier for me to write. **

**But I have no reviews about what kind of ending you guys want. I really need your help, guys. **

* * *

**Alistair**

"Denerim is the heart and soul of Ferelden. It was the city of King Calenhad, the birthplace of Andraste. As stubborn as a mabari, and as good to have on your side. If we defeat Loghain here, the rest of the nation will follow us.

"By calling the Landsmeet, I've stuck the first blow. The advantage, for the moment, is ours. He will have little choice but to show himself, to oppose us directly. He will strike back at us. The only question that remains, is how soon?"

* * *

Arl Eamon turns as the doors open, allowing Loghain, another noble, and a dark-haired guard inside.

"Loghain," Eamon greets evenly. "This is... an honor, that the regent would find time to greet me personally."

"How could I not welcome a man so important as to call every lord in Ferelden away from his estates while a Blight claws at our land?" Loghain asks, clear mockery in his voice.

Alistair tenses, and beside him, Daylen's eyes narrow.

Eamon squares his shoulders. "The Blight is why I'm here. With Cailan dead, Ferelden _must_ have a king to lead it against the darkspawn."

"Ferelden has a strong leader: its queen. And I lead her armies," Loghain snaps.

Daylen scoffs; surprised, everyone turns towards him. "Funny," he comments. "I recall hearing your men claiming you were king. If the Queen is the leader of Ferelden, tell us, why does she not speak for herself?"

Avina steps toward Loghain, her icy gaze sharp. "The throne belongs to Maric's only living son."

Loghain looks the two mages over. "Ah, the Grey Warden recruits. I thought we might meet again. You have my sympathies on what happened to your order. It is unfortunate that they chose to turn against Ferelden."

Avina's eyes flash, her little hands curling into fists. "How _dare_ you -"

Daylen puts a hand on her shoulder, silencing her. "We have come to reveal your crimes at Ostagar," he says evenly. But even Alistair can see the rage burning in his midnight gaze.

Loghain frowns, provoked. "You should curb your tongue. This is my city, and no safe place to speak treason. For anyone."

"It will not be safe for you, then," Avina spits.

Loghain ignores her. "There is talk that your illness left you feeble, Eamon. Some worry that you may no longer be fit to advise Ferelden."

"Illness?" Eamon asks innocently. "Why not call your poison by it's true name? Not everyone at the Landsmeet will cast aside their loyalties as easily as you and these... sycophants."

Alistair wants to cheer and slap him on the back.

"How long you've been gone from court, Eamon!" Loghain sneers. "Don't you recognize Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine, and Teyrn of Highever?"

This Rendon Howe is a beastly man, smaller of stature than most men but with a dangerous glint of greed in his eye. His hair is completely gray with age, and his nose is hooked and unattractive.

Howe smiles like a rat. "And current arl of Denerim, after Urien's unfortunate fate at Ostagar. Truly, it is an embarrassment of riches."

"Enjoy your moment," Daylen says darkly. "It will end soon enough."

The dark-haired woman guarding them snaps to attention. "You are either very bold or very stupid to threaten the teyrn before witnesses."

"Enough, Cauthrien," Loghain orders. "This is not the time or place." He turns back to Eamon, shaking his head. "I had hoped to talk you down from this rash course, Eamon. Our people are frightened; our king is dead. Our land is under siege. We must be united now, if we are to endure this crisis. Your own sister, Queen Rowan, fought tirelessly to see Ferelden restored. Would you see her work destroyed? You divide our nation and weaken our efforts against the Blight with your selfish ambitions to the throne."

"What efforts can there be against a Blight when you outlaw the Grey Wardens?" Avina demands.

"Cailan depended on the Grey Warden's prowess against the darkspawn, and look how well that ended. Let us speak of reality, rather than tall tales. Stories will not save us."

Eamon crosses his arms. "I cannot forgive what you've done, Loghain. Perhaps the Maker can, but not I. Our people deserve a king of the Theirin bloodline. Alistair will be the one to lead us to victory in this Blight."

Alistair raises his eyebrows. "Oh, is that all I have to do? No pressure..."

Avina's arm brushes his, and if he didn't know better, he'd think it was an accident. But she's telling him he doesn't have to do it alone.

"The emperor of Orlais also thought I could not bring him down," Loghain says. "Expect no more mercy than I showed him. There is nothing I would not do for my homeland."

And with that, the trio leave the estate.

Eamon sighs, slowly turning to face the others. "Well, that was... bracing. I didn't expect Loghain to show himself quite so soon."

"Now what should we do?" Daylen asks.

"We need eyes and ears in the city," Eamon tells them. "Loghain has been here for months. The roots of his schemes must begin here. The sooner we find them, the better we can turn them to our advantage. Go have a look around and see what you can turn up. Better yet, find the nobles who have arrived for the Landsmeet. Test the waters, see how many will support us. When you're ready to talk strategy, come upstairs to my sitting room. We can lay out our plans for the Landsmeet then."

* * *

**Daylen**

Daylen has a fondness of Denerim that he can say he's never had for the Circle.

It's beautiful. Full of life.

But the Landsmeet...

Daylen hates it with all his being.

Since he was a boy, he knew he would not have a title. He was stripped of everything when he came to the Circle.

But he had a few tricks up his sleeve... Dealing with the templars and senior enchanters was easy for him by the time he was ten.

That doesn't mean he likes using them.

Daylen learned from his time in Orzammar how much he hated politics. And now, he's right in the middle of the biggest, most important event to happen in Ferelden since the Orlesian occupation was ended.

The country's life depends on his ability to sway nobles to his side, to blackmail, sneak, and threaten information out of people.

And he hates it.

It's no small comfort to have Avina by his side now. Alistair too, is a great help. He knows he couldn't do this without them.

The companions, for the most part, seem to be enjoying themselves since the arrival at the estate.

Well, apart from Shale and Sten.

"Everything in here appears to be breakable," Shale comments. "It seems most impractical."

"It is not as defensible as I would like," Sten agrees, "but it will do."

And then he runs into Morrigan. "If one more servant asks if I would like a change of clothes, I will set the house on fire," she seethes.

Daylen laughs, making a mental note to remind the servants to leave her alone.

When at last he goes to see the arl, Avina and another elf woman are there already.

"Ah, Warden," Eamon greets. "I trust you've made yourself comfortable."

Daylen raises an eyebrow at the elf. "Who is this?"

"This is Erlina," Eamon introduces. "She's-"

"I am Queen Anora's handmaiden," she interrupts, her Orlesian accent thick. "She sent me here to ask for your help."

Eamon smiles slightly. "Or perhaps the young lady prefers to speak for herself."

Already, Daylen does not like this. He has a feeling this is not going to go well.

"And why would Anora want our help?" Daylen asks politely.

Erlina eagerly launches into her tale. "The queen, she is in a difficult position. She loved her husband, no? And trusted her father to protect him. When he returns with no king and only dark rumors, what is she to think? She worries, no? But when she tries to speak with him, he does not answer. He tells her 'not to trouble herself'."

This makes a bit of sense to Daylen. "So she's willing to side with us against her husband's murderer?"

Erlina bows her head. "My queen suspects she cannot trust her father. And Loghain, he is very subtle, no? But Rendon Howe, his is privy to all the secrets and... not so subtle. So she goes to Howe. A visit from the queen to the new arl of Denerim is only a matter of courtesy. And she demands answers."

"And what did he say?" Avina asks.

Erlina shakes her head. "Things no decent person would repeat. He calls her every sort of name, 'traitor' being the kindest, and locks her in the guest room."

This makes... less sense. "Loghain would allow that?" He says skeptically.

"King Cailan was like a son to him, and Loghain left him to die. Does he love Anora more? Who can say?" Erlina bites her lip. "I think... her life is in danger. I heard Howe say she would be a greater ally dead than alive. Especially if her death could be blamed on Arl Eamon."

"We cannot ignore this," Avina points out.

Daylen crosses his arms. "What do you propose we do, then? Storm his estate?"

"I have some uniforms," Erlina offers. "Arl Howe hires so many new guards every day, a few more will not cause much stir. I will show you to the servant's entrance. We must slip in and out with my queen before anyone is the wiser. I will go ahead to Howe's estate. Meet me there as soon as you can."

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next chapter: The Landsmeet Part 2 **


	27. The Landsmeet Part 2

_**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_

**I've got some bad news.**

**I might not finish this story.**

**I'm struggling with a lot right now, trying to get off my depression and anxiety meds because of how expensive they are, trying to make ends meet. I'm so busy, and it's really wearing me down.**

**My muse has been so difficult and slow, I don't know if I'll be able to make it through this one.**

**Honestly, I only got back in gear when I saw I had 35 favorites and 60 followers.**

**Thank you guys so much!**

**If I can, I swear I'll try my hardest to finish this. If you want me to, leave me a review. It helps me so much.**

**ALSO: let me know what ending you guys want! If you don't tell me, I'll have to choose myself, and I don't really trust myself to choose what you guys would like.**

**I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It might be a while before you get another.**

**Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter, and what you'd like to see in the future! I might just add it into the story!**

* * *

**Daylen**

Only very few guards will be able to move around the estate undetected. For this reason, Alistair, Morrigan, Wynne, Shale, and Leliana stay behind. They take Zevran, Sten, and Griffon only; keeping the group as light as possible.

But they run into an unexpected roadblock in the back alleys.

A lone man stands between them and the only way to the estate.

He's young, with dark hair and the beginning of a beard on his tanned face. His armor is of fine make, so different from the common thugs they usually run into.

He takes a few steps forward, smiling. "And so here is the mighty Grey Warden at long last. The Crows send their greetings once again."

Ah, shit.

Zevran's eyes narrow. "So they sent you, Taliesen? Or did you volunteer for the job?"

Taliesen's easy smile never leaves his face. "I volunteered, of course. When I heard that the great Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself."

Zevran lifts his chin. "Is that so? Well, here I am, in the flesh."

Taliesen takes another step forward. "You can return with me, Zevran. I know why you did this, and I don't blame you. It's not too late. Come back and we'll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake."

Avina's gaze snaps to Zevran, her expression terrified. "Zevran?"

Zevran's fists tighten in his Dalish gloves as he flashes Avina a confident smile. "Do not worry. I am not about to return to the loving arms of the Crows, believe me." Then he turns his attention to Taliesen. "I'm sorry, my old friend. But the answer is no. I'm not coming back... and you should have stayed in Antiva."

* * *

The five manage to make it to the estate without a scratch.

It's not difficult to sneak around to the servant's entrance. The riot in the front has distracted most of the guards, and the few that are left pose no problem.

Erlina has the disguises waiting for them when they reach the garden, and it doesn't take them long to change.

Avina's armor ends up being a bit large, while Sten's is a bit small.

"Are you prepared?" Erlina asks. "I will go distract the guards."

Daylen nods. "Let's go."

"I will lure them into the courtyard. Wait in the bushes."

The five of them duck behind the wall while Daylen carefully watches around the corner.

As he watches, Erlina rushes up to the two guards at the door, looking panicked. She says something to them, gesturing to the courtyard.

After a few moments of deliberation, the guards nod to her, and she hurriedly leads them away.

"It's clear," he tells the others. "Let's move."

* * *

Daylen can't help but grind his teeth in frustration.

Of course, getting the queen and getting out wouldn't be simple.

Both he and Avina struggle with the barrier keeping the door shut; neither of them manage to crack it open.

Avina is no happier. "Bastard," she mumbles after her last try.

"We'll have to kill the mage who cast it," Daylen explains to Sten.

"He'll most likely be by Howe's side!" Anora calls through the door.

Avina's eyes narrow. "This could be a trap."

"We don't have a choice," Daylen hisses under his breath. "And you wanted to see him anyway, yes?"

Her face cracks into a smirk. "I suppose..."

"Thank you, Wardens," the queen tells them. "My prayers go with you."

* * *

**Avina**

Freeing Riordan and Oswyn are the higher points of her day.

Trying to calm the insane survivor from Ostagar is one of the lower.

No matter how she tries to calm him, he won't look at her, keeps seeing and hearing things that aren't there.

He's so deranged, he thinks that she, an elf, is his mother.

All they can do is open the door and hope he gets to safety.

The next cage they open holds a handsome young elf with reddish brown hair.

"What month is it?" He begs her. "Are you some enemy of Arl Urien's? Please... I feel like I've spent half my life down here."

Avina steps closer to the bars. "Why were you imprisoned here?"

His head drops a little. "The arl's son... he abducted my bride on our wedding day. When I tried to rescue her... I... I don't remember. She was screaming, and he was laughing, and I charged at him... and woke up here. I don't know if she's even still alive."

"Urien is dead," Daylen informs him. "He died months ago."

"Dead?" The elven man seems genuinely confused. "Then who's ruling? His son Vaughan... he struck me down, and I woke up here. People were so angry. They were thinking of petitioning the king..."

"The king died, as well," Avina says sadly, and opens the door for him.

"Then there have been... many changes since they caught me. I... I need to find out what happened. I - I need to get home. Or... or flee the city. I... I thank you for your aid, stranger. I wish I had more than gratitude to offer."

Avina steps aside to let him pass. "Hurry," she urges. "If you're quick, you can get out of the castle before the guards realize the prison is empty."

He runs off, and doesn't look back.

* * *

**Alistair**

He waits until she's been gone for over an hour to speak to Eamon about Avina's absence.

Only to have the queen of Ferelden run in, followed by Sten, Zevran, and Griffon. Soon, the rest of the companions are coming in as well, likely curious about royalty running around the estate.

"Eamon, I may have done a terrible thing!" Anora cries.

Zevran crosses his arms. "What's this? She throws her savior to the wolves, and now she has second thoughts?"

Sten looks as if he might cut of her head. "No honor, no gratitude, slight grasp of the obvious... fine ruler you have here."

Shale stomps into the room. "Nothing a good head-crushing won't solve."

Oh, Alistair does _not_ like the sound of this. "What?" He demands. "What is it you might have done, exactly?"

"What in Andraste's name has happened?" Eamon asks. "Are you all right?"

"The Wardens have been captured," she tells them.

"And this _may have_ been your fault?" Alistair snarls. "Maybe? Perhaps?"

Morrigan gives a '_hmph_'. "Barely met, and already she betrays us. She and my mother would get along famously."

"I'm still waiting for a reason not to slit her throat and toss her in the river," Zevran murmurs, shrugging. "I haven't heard it yet."

"Your language is fascinating. There is no way in the qunari tongue to use words and yet say nothing," Sten adds.

"What?" Eamon explodes. "How could this happen?"

"Never mind that," Anora says dismissively. "The question is how to free them. Cauthrien will take them to Fort Drakon. Getting in will be no small feat."

* * *

**Avina**

"C'mon... Wake up, Avina. We've got a problem."

Avina slowly comes to consciousness, and struggles for a moment to remember how to open her eyes.

Then she's looking up at Daylen's face from the hard stone floor she's laying on, the side of her skull aching from where Cauthrien hit her with the hilt of her sword.

"Oh, good," Daylen says. "I was almost worried for a second. My healing skills are still not the best. Sorry."

She manages to sit up... and she realizes where they are.

Both of them are trapped in a cell in only their smallclothes.

"Oh," she says, pretending to be chipper. "I've never seen a prison from this side before. Very scenic."

Daylen nods in agreement. "Very. We could bring some of the lovely decor back to Eamon's estate; a few bones, splashes of blood, maybe some screaming prisoners..."

Avina smiles. "I'm going to strangle Anora when we get out."

Daylen smiles back. "Do you mind if I stab her first? Maybe light her hair on fire?"

Avina waves her hand. "Go right ahead."

"We've got to get out of here," Daylen sighs.

"I don't know if that's going to work," Avina mutters.

"Oh, don't be like that. Look, there's a guard. Maybe you can seduce him and steal his key."

Avina's eyes narrow dangerously.

"Or maybe not."

* * *

**Alistair**

"State your business."

Morrigan straightens. "We have a delivery for your fort from the Weaver Crafthall."

One of the soldiers beside the door looks skeptical. "I wasn't told about anything being shipped in today."

"Look," Alistair says. "We've got four more deliveries to make today. Can you get whoever's in charge?"

The other soldier sighs. "Fine, wait over there. I'll get the captain."

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next Chapter: The Landsmeet Part 3**


	28. The Landsmeet Part 3

**I'M BACK!**

**Thank you guys so much for your support. I would be so lost without my lovely reviewers!**

**The reviews made my muse fire right up! I couldn't type fast enough, I was just so pumped!**

**Alepad: Thank you! I'm glad you're following me!**

**Alkeni: I'm flattered you have such faith in my decision-making abilities :P. I partially asked because it takes me so long to make a decision and stick to it; I want to save my readers the time it would take.**

**ImagineBagginsDragon: I'm afraid there's no way to kill Anora in the game. I bet Avina really wishes there was XD but I'm tickled by your enthusiasm. I absolutely love reading your reviews, and I hope you keep enjoying the story and leaving them for me!**

**For those of you who are a bit confused, I sort of mixed up this chapter. I always wondered why both scenarios happen during Captured! So I wrote it in. Feel free to leave criticism.**

**Cookies for all the readers!**

**And, more importantly, a chapter!**

**Captured!**

* * *

**Alistair**

So far, the plan of storming the fort, rescuing the damsel (and Daylen) in distress, and somehow getting back out is going rather well.

Well, they haven't made it through the second door, but they're making progress!

"I can't believe that worked," Alistair murmurs quietly.

Morrigan's eyes narrow. "Nor can I. Your acting is atrocious."

Alistair glares back. "Well, it was good enough to get us this far."

Morrigan crosses her arms. "And that shall comfort our dear Wardens, I am sure, if we get no further than the front door."

At that moment, the captain comes in. "All right," he says irritably. "What's this about?"

Morrigan stops Alistair before he can speak. "We have a delivery for the fort."

"I haven't been notified about any delivery," the captain says suspiciously.

Morrigan raises her eyebrows innocently. "You wish to refuse it? Fine, but you must speak with the Weaver Crafthall. I will not take it back to them for you."

The captain groans. "Fine, fine. Take it to the main hall."

And they're allowed to pass.

With a small smile of satisfaction, Alistair hurries through the doorway, around the corner and down the hall into the main hall.

It must be the largest room in the building, with two ballistae at each wall. There are about six guards scattered about the room, with one standing between them and the next door.

Alistair stops, uncertain. "All right, we need a plan."

"If you wish to plan, do it quickly," Morrigan hisses. "They may be taking the Wardens for execution as we speak."

The closest guards are two men. The guard at the door is a severe looking blonde woman.

"I'll handle this," he whispers, and strolls up to the two gentlemen.

* * *

**Avina**

"If you're not bleeding, I don't care," the guard snaps.

Daylen gives him a panicked look. "But... the other prisoner... I think she's dying!"

Avina lays at the back of the cell, her skin magically heated and her face as pale as she can make it with blood magic.

The guard's brows lower, and he opens the cell to come closer.

It's exactly what Daylen's been waiting for.

"What's wrong with you, then?" The guard demands.

There's a thud as Daylen hits hits him on the back of the head as hard as he can. The guard crumples, his eyes rolling back in his head and he falls limply to the ground.

Daylen hisses through his teeth, shaking his fist. "I think I broke my hand," he gets out.

"Let me see."

A quick wave of healing magic resets the bones, mending them together as best she can.

Daylen opens and closes his fist, looking impressed. "Right. Let's get out of here."

Daylen takes the guard's uniform, along with his key, and leaves him in the cell as if he were the prisoner.

It won't kill him. Eventually they'll realize what happened, she's sure.

At the other side of the room is a chest, full of everything they took from the two of them. Avina eagerly puts her robes back on, gripping the worn handle of her staff in her hand, comforting in it's familiarity.

"If anyone sees us, don't hesitate," Daylen whispers. "I may look like a guard, but you're too conspicuous. We'll have to kill them."

Avina nods, her eyes gravely serious.

* * *

**Alistair**

"I'm sorry to bother you," Alistair tells the two guards.

The red-haired man with the ponytail eyes him. "What do you want?"

Alistair puts on his best 'clueless blonde' expression. "What are you doing hanging around in the hall? I'm sure this is a nice fort, but I wouldn't want to spend all my time here."

The guard shrugs. "Well... you never know."

The other guard, a bald man, nods. "We might be needed at any time."

"Right," Alistair agrees slowly. "Bandits might steal... ballistae, or something. Very large bandits. There's probably a black market for... siege weapons somewhere."

The bald guard scratches the back of his head with a smirk, glancing back at the lady guarding the door. "Well, I can't say the... ah... scenery here isn't a good argument for spending time here."

Furiously, the red-haired guard whirls on him. "What?! You never said you had your eye on Tanna!"

The bald one shrugs, turning to him. "Of course I - you... you _poacher!_ You're eyeing her, too!"

"I've been posted here longer than you have! You're the blighted poacher, you mangy little runt!"

Alistair isn't sure who the first one to throw a punch is.

They're beating at each other mercilessly before he knows it, drawing the other three guards to watch the fight.

"I didn't quite expect that," Alistair admitted. "I mean, it's certainly a distraction. I just wanted to maybe cause one _on purpose._"

Morrigan isn't paying attention, already heading towards the woman guarding the door. Alistair rushes to catch up to her.

"State your business," the woman says stiffly to Morrigan.

"So this is your lot in life," Morrigan drawls. "Are you satisfied?"

"What do you mean?"

Morrigan gestures to her. "They task you with standing here. For hours. All day, perhaps? What a life you must lead. Full of wonder and excitement."

The guard frowns. "That's true, I guess..."

Morrigan crosses her arms. "No doubt your masters prefer that you never think on it. Better that their peons continue to think themselves free."

Alistair has to admit... She is good at this.

"You have a point," the woman declares. "This isn't what I had in mind when I signed on with the army. You know, I joined the army to follow in my father's footsteps. To make him proud. And what do I get? Barracks detail. Would he be proud of that? Andraste's ass, he would... I'm going to live my life before it's too late. Let someone else guard their stupid door."

And with that, she marches past Morrigan and out of the hall.

But just as they open the door, a group of guards is about to go through it, and notices them.

_This can't be good_, is the last thing Alistair manages to think before he hurries to come up with an excuse.

* * *

**Daylen**

It's nothing less than a miracle that they manage to find a woman's guard uniform in one of the storage areas. It fits Avina well enough, and hopefully they'll be able to slip by undetected.

They walk through the halls as if they're supposed to be there, keeping their postures as straight and professional as they see other soldiers'.

They manage to accidentally get rid of one of the other guards, tricking him into thinking they're there to replace him. Really, it wasn't Daylen's fault the man jumped to conclusions. Even so, if they're forced to fight their way out, that'll be one less.

But as they pass a room, a voice calls out to them, stopping them.

"What's this?"

Daylen swallows, and motions for Avina to follow him. It's an office, with a desk and an important looking man behind it.

"Ah!" He booms. "You must be the new recruits we were getting. You're late! The rest of your patrol is in the storage room. Find them, and get yourselves ready for inspection."

With a mental sigh of relief, Daylen beats his chest in a salute. "Yes, ser!"

Then he turns tail and scuttles out of there.

He's just gotten them a ticket out.

The two members of the patrol are indeed in the storage room.

"Did you need something?" One of them asks.

Daylen squares his shoulders. "I have orders to get you ready for inspection."

"Thank the Maker," he sighs in relief.

The other guard gets to his feet. "But... what are we going to do about _him_, though?"

The first sighs.

"Is there a problem?" Avina demands, her voice sharp and authoritative. She sounds like a soldier.

"The assistant quartermaster... is a little miffed with us at present," the second explains.

"I told you we should've put those potatoes in the cellar straight away," the first guard grumbles.

"Some things went amiss. Mistakes were made. The quartermaster got chewed out by Teyrn Loghain, and then _he_ chewed out the assistant..."

"And now to get back at us for landing him in trouble, the assistant quartermaster won't give us our blades. And you can't pass inspection without a regulation sword."

"I'll handle him," Daylen assures them.

He'll just act surprised when they realize he's not at his post.

The second guard nods. "He's down the hall, in the armory."

"Maker help us," groans the first.

Another trip down the hall, into the empty storage room.

"He's not here," one of them says.

"Well, don't just stand there! Get your blade and let's report to the colonel before he gets back!"

Soon enough they're standing before the colonel.

He looks them up and down. "So, you think you're ready to go on your first patrol mission, do you?"

"Yes, ser!" Daylen answers.

The colonel smiles. "That's what I like to hear!" He looks at the guard standing beside Avina. "You there!"

"Yes, ser!"

"Stand up straight! You're a soldier in the King's army, and the King's own men don't slouch!" Then he looks at the guard at the end. "And you!"

"Yes, ser!"

"Stop fidgeting. You can fidget on your own time."

"Yes, ser!" The guard replies, saluting. "Thank you, ser!"

"Kiss-arse," the other guard mutters under his breath.

Then he looks at Avina.

Daylen holds his breath.

"You there," he snaps. "Young lady."

Her face is stern. "Yes, ser!"

"What's the one thing a soldier can't do without?"

Avina thinks for a moment. "Discipline, ser!"

The colonel nods, seemingly impressed by her answer. "I expect the lot of you to be back here by sunup. Now get out of here. And Maker watch over you."

Daylen doesn't need to be told twice.

He jogs back down the hall, right up to the guarded door. He doesn't know the password, but he won't be needing it, he knows.

"Password?"

One of the men behind him speaks up. "Uh, 'Rabbit', I think?"

The guard with the mustache nods. "Going on your first patrol, are you? Good luck."

Daylen nods back, and they open the door.

Only to run into two very familiar faces.

"Oh, pardon me," Alistair says, then he takes a good look at them. "Wha-"

Daylen cuts him off, his eyes screaming for him to shut up. "Excuse us, civilians," he says. "This is a restricted area."

Morrigan smiles brightly, batting her eyelashes. "Oh, silly us. This fort is simply so large... We came to deliver a package, and forget the way out!"

Daylen grins. "Allow us to escort you out, then."

And just like that, with Morrigan on his arm, the four of them (plus the two guards) walk right out of the front door of Fort Drakon.

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next Chapter: The Landsmeet Part 4**

**(A/N: there will probably be at least two more of 'Landsmeet' chapters.)**


	29. The Landsmeet Part 4

**Hey, everyone.**

**This chapter is short. Again. Sorry .**

**But at least it's here. Yay?**

**As I predicted, my muse is slow and uncooperative. And when it gets like this, I don't like my chapters as much.**

**If I manage to get to it, the next chapter will have quite a bit of angst, drama, and all that not-so-fun stuff. And I'm not sure if I can do a happy ending whilst making it realistic.**

**Now is your chance to give me some final input! **

**Side note: I might also write a separate story with unseen scenes from this story. If I write it, it'll have multiple chapters with various different things. Leave me a review on what you want to see, and I'll write it for you like the obedient little author I am.**

* * *

**Daylen**

"Where is she?" Daylen demands. "I'm going to kill her. I'm going to gut her like a pig! I'm going to flambe her! I'm going to-"

Avina cuts him off. "Shut up."

Daylen gapes at her. "What?"

She gives him a sweet smile, one that he instantly distrusts. "Don't worry. I'll handle her."

Daylen crosses his arms. "We aren't murdering her? Why not?"

"We both know you aren't serious," Avina points out. "We just did all that work to get her out of the castle to protect her. We can't kill her now."

Daylen sighs dramatically. "Al_right_."

"Anora is a conniving, greedy, power-hungry bitch," she explains. "And this is her flaw. Just let me handle it, and Anora will regret it for the rest of her miserable life."

Daylen smirks. "You're _evil_. I _like_ it."

Avina gives another sugary sweet smile. "Now!" She claps her hands. "Let's go find some dirt on Loghain."

* * *

**Avina **

Avina's a little nervous to be back here after so many years, to be honest. Surely, no one will recognize or remember her. But... this was home before she knew the confining protection of the Circle. She could remember playing here, scraping her knees, and being scolded.

It isn't very different from her memories.

It's an alienage. Of course it's messy, and humans rarely dare to set foot here.

Elves were lesser beings.

In the Circle, it wasn't like this. Since everyone there has magic, everyone there is pitied or feared depending on their level of power, not their race.

But Avina has never forgotten the way she cried for someone to help her sick mother, and the humans just passed her by. More than uncaring; annoyed. Merely by her presence.

These humans don't know how lucky they are that she isn't spiteful towards them for that.

She is heavily reminded when she walks through the alienage that she is an outcast. An elf in a human city, and a mage among the magicless.

It would be easy for her to lose herself like this; forget what's important, and become selfish.

But it is not in her nature to be selfish. And she has a feeling this might be why Duncan chose her as well.

They're suprized to see the alienage in an uproar; the elves out in the streets before a group of human men with armed guards.

As they come closer, she can hear them.

One of the older elven women steps towards the men in robes; likely mages? "I have children at home. I can't wait another day," she pleads.

And Avina wonders, wait for what?

Right then, she knows that something is wrong here. Very, very wrong.

* * *

**Daylen**

Daylen doesn't particularly like Tevinter.

But he can honestly say, after this run-in, he is even less fond of them than he was before.

Of course he knew about the slavery there, but...

He understands how it feels to be trapped, chained by rules he didn't want to follow from people who did not care for him.

And slaves have it worse.

Perhaps, several months ago, he might not have cared as much.

But he hates slavery. He hates it with all his being after seeing those elves in those cramped cages, their skin bruised and their eyes terrified.

How can a man look at another and say, 'I don't care that you are my brother, that you feel and think and reason, that you have a family and friends that love you. I am going to make you my property, and you can have no thoughts of your own.'

It's at times like these that he's infinitely glad it's Avina beside him, and not some other twit.

He can see it in her now. Most likely what Duncan saw. Uncertainty, certainly. Shyness? Definitely. But underneath, that fierceness... unending determination to do what is right, and nothing else.

He doesn't know if he'll ever meet another man as wise as Duncan was.

She is strong. She knows when to stop. When to answer injustice with mercy, and when to answer with vengeance. She knows how to comfort the needy, and protect those who cannot protect themselves.

He should have followed her from the very beginning.

So he does now. And he will from now on.

* * *

**Avina**

One thing is abundantly clear to her when she at last leaves the alienage. Even more so than before.

Anora and her father cannot be trusted with power.

When she goes to see the queen, she forces herself to stand straight. She manages a firm, professional expression from copying Daylen.

As Avina enters, Anora bows her head respectfully. "Hello again, Warden. It is good that you came to speak with me."

Avina nods back stiffly.

She is already imagining Anora's reaction when Avina double crosses her.

"I realize that my... actions at Howe's estate may not have painted me in the best light," Anora admits.

Avina forces herself not to snort.

"For that I apologize," she continues. "And hope that we can start again. I will be blunt. I can see that your voice will be a strong one in days to come. It is to you that Eamon listens, and with good reason. My father must be stopped, but once that is done Ferelden will need a ruler. I would welcome your support for my throne."

Alistair's throne.

"You will be seen as my father's enemy, yet you will be in support of his daughter. You will be seen as supporting the interests of Ferelden as opposed to solely those of the Grey Wardens. In return, I add my voice to yours. Do you see? Together we can do what alone we cannot."

It is so easy to see Loghain in her when she speaks like this.

Nothing but lust for power. Greed. Craving something that does _not_ belong to her.

Avina pretends to think it over. "And what happens to Loghain when you are queen?"

Anora's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of such a powerful ally. "He is my father, as well as a great general who has served this nation well until now. If there is a way for him to live, I would prefer it."

Avina bats her eyes innocently. "Justice should be done, don't you think?"

"I will always be my father's daughter," Anora says. "But even I know he must pay for his crimes. It will not make me glad, even so. Does that affect your decision? Can we come to an arrangment?"

"I agree to an alliance," Avina says, smirking inwardly. "You'll have my support in the Landsmeet."

Lying has never felt better.

Anora smiles brightly. "That is good to hear. So we have a deal, Warden. I trust you'll keep your end of the bargain... now, I suppose, comes the task of dealing with my father. That will be no small feat, of course, but I am certain you already know this. I imagine you have much to do. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Nothing at all," Avina replies, and stalks out of the room.

* * *

**Alistair**

Alistair scratches the back of his neck. "So, I'm guessing someone told Anora I was planning to steal her throne. She has a nasty glare." He sighs. "She wants to be queen. I get it. I don't trust her anymore than her father, but I get it."

Avina gives him a sidelong glance. "What do you think of her?"

"They say that Anora is smart, determined... she's supposedly the one who's really ruled here, not Cailan. She's her father's daughter. Me, I say that's where the problem lies. People like her and her father always think they're the only ones who can fix things. So everyone should just stay out of their way."

Avina half-smiles. "I just thought they were crazy, but I suppose that's true too."

Alistair laughs. "What do you think? When the Landsmeet comes, you might even have a say."

"I think Anora needs to be taken down a few notches," Avina states. "And you'll be a good king."

Alistair smirks. "You say that now. Just wait. I'm full of surprises."

Then she's pulling something off her back and - oh, how did he not notice that?

But it's something familiar...

His breath catches in his throat as he realizes what it is.

"This... this shield." His hands slide along the cold metal of what she put in his hands. "It's Duncan's, isn't it? That's his crest..."

And she just looks at him, as if she hasn't just found something so important to him. She smiles, and his heart swells in his chest. "I found it in the vault. I thought you might want it."

His lips press together. This is truly one of the most thoughtful gestures anyone has ever done for him.

And most of his thoughtful gestures were from her.

"Thank you," he breathes. "Truly, I had no idea his shield wasn't with him. This is... perfect. I don't know how else to express my gratitude. This means a great deal to me. I can't believe you remembered it at all..."

After all, she has so much else on her mind...

"Of course I remembered," she tells him, as if it would be impossible not to.

"I'll treasure this," he promises. "Thank you."

* * *

**Tel'abelas.**

**Next Chapter: The Landsmeet End**


	30. The Landsmeet End

**We are in the home stretch, guys! Next chapter _might_ be the last one!**

**I'll most likely write a short sequel, but I'm not sure yet. **

**But it's all thanks to you guys that I've made it this far! I would not have done it without you. Your support means everything to me.**

**WARNING: This chapter was painful to write, so it might be painful to read. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter, and send me more support for a quick update!**

* * *

**Avina**

How does someone prepare for something like this?

She feels like a little girl, trying to get everyone to listen to her again.

But... she's not a little girl anymore. She's a Warden, proud and strong, with an army of an entire nation at her back. More than that, she has her best friends beside her.

Still, coming up to the doors of the palace, she hesitates.

She is about to face one of the greatest heroes Ferelden has ever had, and she's doing it with less than a year of experience versus Loghain's lifetime.

A hand squeezes her shoulder reassuringly. She looks over to see Daylen smiling at her, giving her a thumbs up. "Hey," he tells her. "If you can't do it, we never stood a chance."

She can't help but smile back. Part of her marvels at how much he's changed from the giant prat he was at the Circle.

And he's right. She's made it this far; if she can't do it, she'd like to see someone else who could.

So she straightens her shoulders and pushes the doors open.

Only to come face-to-face with ser Cauthrien.

"Wardens," she says evenly. "I am not surprised it has come to this. And Alistair," she points towards him. "If you were even remotely worthy of being called Maric's son, you would already be in the Landsmeet, now wouldn't you?" She turns back to Avina. "You have torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who ensured you were born into freedom. But do not think you will get past me to desecrate the Landsmeet itself. The nobles of Ferelden will confirm my lord as regent, and we can finally put this to rest. Once you are gone."

Daylen readies his staff, shifting his stance, but Avina raises a hand to stop him.

She knows Cauthrien is a smart woman. She has to understand, and know what is truly going on.

"Cauthrien," she says. "Do you really not see what Loghain has become?"

Cauthrien's eyes lower with doubt. "I have had... so many doubts of late. Loghain is a great man, but his hatred of Orlais has driven him to madness. He has done terrible things, I know it, but I owe him everything. I cannot betray him, do not ask me to."

"Then I will not," Avina assures her. "Just stand aside and let me stop him."

Cauthrien bows her head. "I never thought duty would taste so bitter. Stop him, Warden. Stop him from betraying everything he once loved. But, please... show mercy. Without Loghain, there would be no Ferelden to defend."

And they can finally enter the chamber.

With one final deep breath, Avina pushes the door open and walks into the chamber, followed by the people she holds most dear.

Arl Eamon's voice rings through the room. "My lords and ladies of the Landsmeet, Teyrn Loghain would have us give up our freedoms, our traditions, out of fear! _He_ placed us on this path, yet we should place our destiny in his hands? Must we sacrifice everything good about our nation to save it?"

The room applauds him as he takes a step back.

Then a new voice echoes through the room. "A fine performance, Eamon, but no one here is taken in by it."

Loghain has reared his head.

"You would attempt to put a puppet on the throne and every soul here knows it. The better question is, 'Who will pull the strings?'"

Avina pushes through a few absent-minded nobles, meeting Loghain's cold gaze with one of her own.

"Ah!" He booms. "And here we have the puppeteer. Tell us, Warden: How will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince?"

Avina raises an eyebrow. Orlais this, Orlais that. How has no one noticed his madness?

"What did they offer you?" He continues. "How much is the price of Ferelden honor now?"

His guards prevent her from closing the distance and socking him in the jaw. But it's fine with her; her swing isn't that good anyway.

"The Blight is the threat here, Loghain!" She snaps back, making sure her voice is loud enough for all to hear her. "Not Orlais!"

"There are enough refugees in my bannorn now to make that abundantly clear," Bann Alfstanna adds.

Arl Wulff leans over the railing above them. "The south is fallen, Loghain! Will you let darkspawn take the who country for fear of Orlais?"

Loghain's eyes narrow. "The Blight is indeed real, Wulff. But do we need Grey Wardens to fight it? They claim they alone can end the Blight, yet they failed spectacularly against the darkspawn at Ostagar, and they ask us to bring with them four legions of chevaliers. And once we open our borders to the Chevaliers, can we really expect them to simply return from whence they came?"

Avina's fists clench. "You sold Ferelden citizens into slavery to fund your war," Avina reveals.

The entire hall gasps.

"What's this?" Sighard demands. "There is no slavery in Ferelden! Explain yourself."

"There is no saving the Alienage," Loghain starts. There are many more gasps as he admits his guilt. "Damage from the riots has yet to be repaired. There are bodies still rotting in their homes. It is not a place I would send my worst enemy. There is no chance of holding it if the Blight comes here." He turns back to Avina. "Despite what you may think, Warden, I have done my duty. Whatever my regrets may be for the elves, I have done what was needed for the good of Ferelden."

Avina takes a step forward, confidence bolstering her. "Was sending an apostate to poison Eamon your duty as well?"

Every head swivels towards Loghain at these accusations.

Loghain huffs. "I assure you, Warden, if I were going to send someone, it would be my own soldiers. I would not trust to the discretion of an apostate."

As Avina knew she would, Alfstanna speaks. "Indeed? My brother tells a very different tale. He says you snatched a blood mage from the Chantry's justice. Coincidence?"

The Grand Cleric rises from her corner. "Do not think the Chantry will overlook this, Teyrn Loghain. Interference in a templar's sacred duties is an offense against the Maker."

"Whatever I have done, I will answer for later," Loghain grumbles. "At the moment, however, I wish to know what this Warden has done with my daughter."

Avina crosses her arms. He was on the defensive, now. "We're discussing your crimes here."

"You took my daughter - our queen - by force, killing her guards in the process. What arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?" He demands.

Right on time, Anora appears in the doorway. "I believe I can speak for myself."

Gracefully, she moves to the center of the room to face the Landsmeet. "Lords and ladies of Ferelden, hear me. My father is no longer the man you know. This man is not the hero of River Dane. This man turned his troops aside and refused to protect your king as he fought bravely against the darkspawn. This man seized Cailan's throne before his body was cold and locked me away so I could not reveal his treahery. I would have already been killed, if not for this Grey Warden."

Avina sighs in relief. "The queen speaks the truth."

Loghain's shoulders sag sadly. "So, the Warden's influence has poisoned even your mind, Anora?"

"South Reach stands with the Grey Wardens."

"Waking Sea stands with the Grey Wardens!"

"Dragon's Peak supports the Warden!"

"The Western Hills throw their lot in with the Wardens. Maker help us."

"I stand by Loghain!" Ceorlic calls. "We've no hope of victory otherwise."

One of the nobles standing on the floor with the others speaks up, his voice being the final. "I stand with the Warden! The Blight is coming; we need the Grey Wardens!"

Avina beamed with pride. "The Landsmeet is against you, Loghain. Step down gracefully."

Loghain's eyes blaze with anger. "Traitors!" He snarls. "Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives?"

Loghain's men snap to attention, awaiting the order to attack.

"Call off your men," Avina snaps. "And we can settle this honorably."

Loghain seems to calm, backing off from his aggressive stance. "Then let us end this. I suppose we both knew it would come to this. A man is made b the quality of his enemies. Maric told me that once. I wonder if it's more a compliment to you or me." He shakes his head. "Enough. Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel."

"It shall be fought according to tradition," Bann Alfstanna declares. "A test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome."

Loghain nods in understanding. "Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?"

Avina shakes her head. "Alistair is my champion; he is our rightful king."

Loghain's eyes narrow. "Then let us test the mettle of our would-be king. Prepare yourself."

* * *

It is one of the hardest things she has ever done to watch Alistair face their biggest enemy alone.

Of course she knows he is more than capable; if he wasn't, she wouldn't have risked him.

But it would not have been fair. A mage against a non-templar man would never be a fair fight, unless his sword was bathed in mage's bane.

Every time Loghain's shield knocks Alistair down, Avina flinches, but cannot tear her eyes away.

Alistair always regains his feet.

He meets Loghain blow for blow, matching skill with skill, and anger with anger. They dance around each other endlessly, and over the sound of swords and steps and the frantic beat of her heart, she can hear the nobles cheering.

Another smash of Loghain's shield against Alistair's armor almost makes him lose his balance, and for a moment Avina fears he will fall.

Then he spins around it, catching Loghain full in the chest with Duncan's shield, crashing against the side of his jaw.

Loghain falls to his knees, and everyone can tell. He will not be able to continue.

He drops his sword. "So, there is some of Maric in you after all. Good."

"Forget Maric," Alistair says. "This is for Duncan."

And he raises his sword to deal the finishing blow.

"Wait!"

Everyone turns.

Riordan joins them. "There is another option," he tells them.

Alistair frowns, but stays his blade.

"The teyrn is a warrior and general of renown. Let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining."

But Avina has no mercy left for the merciless killer the Hero of River Dane has become. "No!" She cries. "That's insane!"

Riordan crosses his arms. "There are too few of us. It's not a matter of what we like; it's a matter of what we must do. Our duty is to slay the archdemon. We aren't judges. Kinslayers, blood mages, traitors, rebels, carta thugs, common bandits; anyone with the skill and the mettle to take up the sword against the darkspawn is welcome among us. There are _four_ of us in all of Ferelden. And there are... compelling reasons to have as many Wardens on hand as possible to deal with the archdemon."

"The Joining itself is often fatal, is it not?" Anora pipes in. "If he survives, you gain a general. If not, you have your revenge. Doesn't that satisfy you?"

"Absolutely not!" Alistair explodes. "Riordan, this man abandoned our brothers and then blamed us for the deed! He hunted us down like animals. He torture you! How can we simply forget that?"

Avina's lips are a firm line. "I cannot forgive what he's done to me and my country. He has to die."

Daylen's brows lower. "Avina, surely he has a good reason for suggesting -"

She whirls on him. "_No_, Daylen. He must die for his crimes. If not, the civil war will only continue when this Blight is over!"

Daylen raises his hands in defeat. "Alright."

"You can't do this!" Anora protests. "My father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people."

"Anora," Loghain whispers, as if out of breath. "Hush. It's over."

"Stop treating me like a child. This is serious!"

Loghain shakes his head at her. "Daughters never grow up, Anora. They remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever."

"Father-" Anora's voice shakes as she covers her face with her hands.

He turns to Avina. "Just make it quick, Warden. I can face the Maker, knowing that Ferelden is in your hands."

Avina looks at Alistair. "Your life is not mine to take. It is Alistair's."

Alistair nods. "I will. I owe that to Duncan."

He raises his sword once more.

One step forward, and he slashes it quickly over Loghain's throat.

And it is over.

* * *

"So it is decided," Eamon says. "Alistair will take his father's throne."

Alistair looks up in surprise. "Wait, what? When did we decide that? Nobody's decided. Have they?"

Anora jumps in eagerly. "He refuses the throne! Everyone here has heard him. I think it's clear then, that he abdicates in favor of me."

Avina scowls at her.

Eamon sighs. "I hardly think you're the appropriate person to mediate this, Anora. Warden," he asks Avina. "Will you help us?"

Her eyes widen, and she fights the urge to point to her own chest to make sure it is her that he means.

"Um," she stutters. "Yes, I can settle this." Timidly, she steps forward, aware of all the eyes on her.

"As the arbiter of this dispute, what is your decision? Who will lead Ferelden?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Anora smirk in triumph.

A smirk of her own slips into place on Avina's lips. "Alistair will lead us."

Anora's smile falls apart like a house of cards.

Alistair scratches behind his ear. "This is where I wake up, usually. Or everyone points and laughs because I have no clothes on..."

"Anora," Eamon says. "The Landsmeet has decided against you. You must now swear fealty to our king, and relinquish all claim to the throne for yourself and your heirs."

Anora throws a murderous glare at Avina, who smiles innocently back.

"If you think I will swear that oath, Eamon," she grits out. "You know nothing of me."

"Anora," Avina says calmly. "Be reasonable."

Anora curls her lip at her. "Reason clearly had nothing to do with _your_ choice, Warden."

Maybe it had to do with the fact that you were a _bitch_, Avina thinks to herself.

"We cannot leave Ferelden in a state of civil war," Eamon points out. "We must have unity. If she will not swear fealty to you, Alistair, and renounce her claim to the throne, she is a threat to us all."

"Put her in the tower for now," Alistair orders. "If I fall against the Blight, then she can have her throne. If not... then we'll see."

Anora looks at him in surprise. "Thank you, Alistair. You show me mercy that I... would not have shown you."

Eamon signals the guards at his sides. "Very well, then. Guards, take her away."

The guards lead Anora out of the Landsmeet Chamber.

Then Eamon turns to Alistair. "Your highness, would you address the Landsmeet?"

"Oh," Alistair starts. "That would be me. Right." He clears his throat. "I never knew him, but from all I've heard of my father, what defined him was his commitment to protecting this land."

Daylen nudges him with his elbow playfully. "Get to the Blight, already."

"I was getting there," Alistair hisses. "Anyway, the Blight. Yes. I may be Maric's son, but I am also a Grey Warden. I took an oath; I swore I would stand and fight darkspawn, no matter the cost to myself. I can't break that oath just to wear the crown. I have to go with my fellow Wardens to face the Blight. When the Blight is over, I'll come back and take up my duties... whatever they are... as king. Until then, I think Arl Eamon will have to be my regent."

Arl Eamon bows. "Then I can do Maric's memory no less honor than you do. I accept. And may the Maker bless your efforts against the darkspawn."

Alistair smiles. "My fellow Grey Warden will, I hope, take Loghain's place as the leader of my armies." He looks to Avina. "Shall we finish this thing together?"

She is so proud of him.

She bows her head to him. "I could do no less, my king."

He turns at last to face his people. "Everyone, get ready to march. It's going to take all of Ferelden's strength to survive this Blight. But we _will_ face it. and we'll defeat it."

The crowd cheers wildly.

"We'd better get going," he tells her. "Ferelden is depending on us."

* * *

The royal guard escort their group back to Arl Eamon's estate. On the way, she chats excitedly with Leliana, the bard telling her about how well her story about them is going.

But Alistair seems to be avoiding her.

She doesn't see him again until later, when they're all settled back into the estate.

The door opens, and Avina instinctively turns to watch Alistair enter the room.

His face is drawn with sad seriousness, and he comes right up to her.

"We... need to talk." Avina waits as he takes a deep breath to continue. "I'm not going to question why you made me king. I even think I'm starting to come around on the idea, anyhow... it could be an interesting future for me. But..."

And this, she suspects, is the hard part.

"Being king, that raises some questions about us. About you and me."

Fear starts to grip her heart. "What sort of questions?"

Alistair looks at his feet. "First, there's the fact that both you and I are Grey Wardens. It's not just a question of obligation, but of blood. You know Grey Wardens don't usually live to become old, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"The taint in our blood..." he swallows. "The taint we took in at the Joining... it will kill us in the long run. Grey Wardens may live to their forties at most, no longer. As king, I'll be required to have a child. Even more so because my death is assured. That's assuming that someone with the taint can or even should have a child."

"I... don't understand." Or, at least, she hopes she doesn't.

She hopes more than anything that she doesn't understand.

Alistair wipes a hand over his eyes. "I will need to find a wife, one who can bear a child. Who will live to raise it. I don't relish it, but... I will have a duty as the king."

Dimly, she thinks she hears something crack.

Maybe it's her heart.

But she is too numb to feel anything right now.

"I love you. More than I ever thought possible," he tells her. And she almost wishes he didn't say that, she almost wishes he would laugh in her face and tell her he used her. "But... I have to face what this means. I can't run away from it any more."

All she can think about, all she can remember now is his hands on her, their fumbling awkwardness as they touched parts of her that had never been touched before.

_How can you do this to me?_

The accusation is out of her mouth before she can stop to think. "You took my virginity... and now... that's it?"

"Please don't say it like that." He looks as broken as she feels. "Avina, please -"

Blinking rapidly, she takes a step back. She can't cry. Not here. Not now.

"I understand," she hears herself say. "I should not have assumed..." she stops herself. "I apologize."

He opens his mouth to speak, one of his hands reaching out to her. She flinches back before he can touch her. If he does, she knows she will not be strong enough to keep the tears at bay. "Please excuse me," she says stonily, and practically runs out of the room.

She briefly hears him calling her name before she manages to put a door between them. She doesn't stop, running mindlessly through the halls of the arl's estate. She runs until she tastes fresh air, feels wind on her hot cheeks, and runs further.

She doesn't know where she's going, only that she has to get away before her stone mask breaks.

When she stops, she finds herself in The Pearl. It's as good a place as any.

She manages to order a drink and find a booth in the shadows before she breaks down.

* * *

She isn't drunk when she feels a tap on her shoulder; just a little... floaty.

"Ey, Warden."

Stunned, she looks up at the ginger beard of her friend.

"Thought I'd find you here," Oghren rumbles.

"Avina, what happened?" Leliana asks, lowering herself until she's eye level with her.

With a soft cry, Avina throws herself into Leliana's surprised arms.

"I can't do it," she whimpers. "I can't... I was never strong enough."

"Avina," Leliana soothes, rubbing her back. "Why do you say that? You're stronger than anyone I've ever known."

"You didn't see the pike twirler before you went looking, didja?" Oghren asks. Leliana gives him a questioning look. "Aye, didn't think so. It's gonna be a rough night."

* * *

Daylen and Wynne are waiting for her when she came back, half carried by Oghren and Leliana.

Daylen looks worried for her, and in her tipsy state she's touched that he cares.

"What happened?"

"Alistair ended things with her," Leliana whispers, as if afraid that the slightest provocation will crush Avina.

"A king can't marry an elf," she says quietly. "Especially not a mage."

"I don't give a shit," Daylen snaps.

Everyone gapes at him as he storms out of the room.

* * *

**Alistair**

"You miserable bastard."

Alistair looks up from his tankard, only to see Daylen standing over him, furious.

Daylen grabs him by the collar of his shirt and hauls him to his feet. "Have you any idea what you've done?" He snarls.

Alistair is drunk. He honestly has no idea what this is about. He's not sure he wants to.

"What were you thinking? She adores you, you bloody oaf! _Loves_ you! And you _destroyed_ her!"

But Alistair already knows this. He looks down at his shoes, guilt and alcohol making his insides feel sick.

"I know."

"You know and you-" Daylen splutters. "You know, I'd really thought you'd grown a pair over the past year, but apparently I was wrong! You're a sodding coward!"

Daylen pushes Alistair back into his seat and stomps out of the room, leaving Alistair alone.

Alistair lets his head fall down onto his arm. How he will be able to face the others and... _her_ in the morning, he'll never know.

* * *

**Ir abelas.**

**Next Chapter: The Battle of Denerim**


	31. The Battle of Denerim

**SWEET TITS OF ANDRASTE, THIS CHAPTER IS LONG.**

**I am SO sorry, guys. I tried to end it in this chapter, but it's too goddamn long! So I broke it into two parts. I have no idea when the final chapter will be up.**

**And then, after that, the sequel.**

**But I've been updating like crazy because, I don't know. My muse is random, and it fired up. And I wasn't about to let my inspiration waste away while I did nothing.**

**A bit of angst, a bit of fighting, a bit of lovin', a bit of fluff, this chapter has it all.**

**It might be the longest one I've written, ever.**

**And there are probably a lot of errors.**

**But, yea. BE HAPPY.**

**And review? PLEASE? **

* * *

**Daylen**

This wave of protective anger he feels astounds him.

When they finally manage to gather everyone up and start the journey back to Redcliffe, he keeps an arm around Avina's shoulders to keep her steady and away from Alistair.

He's not the only one who's angry.

Wynne has not stopped giving Alistair sad, disapproving looks. Daylen could tell from the conversation she had with Avina that she expected that if anyone were to be hurt in their relationship, it would be Alistair. Instead, Avina is the one who's heart is mangled.

He wondered if Wynne knew that Avina was just as inexperienced as Alistair when it came to romance.

Shale and Sten constantly stand between the two as they go, and Shale looks as if she'd be willing to crush Alistair's head if Avina would give the word.

Every mile or so Oghren asks Avina if she wants a break, if she's doing all right.

Morrigan is perhaps the most concerned she's ever been. She stands on her other side, and there she remains whenever they run into trouble.

Zevran seems to be continually trying to get her to smile, to laugh, to forget.

Leliana and Griffon seem to be the only neutral companions. They care, of course, but they're the only ones who aren't glaring at Alistair like they want to maim him.

Daylen and Leliana have teamed up to keep them both sober enough to fight.

It's not likely that they'll be much of a help against the darkspawn if they're falling over drunk.

Oghren can do it, but he's had years of practice. So they'll be restrained until after the defeat of the archdemon.

* * *

**Avina**

Though she's only been drunk once, being sober is the last thing she wants to be right now.

When she was drunk, she forgot. The pain, and everything that went with it, was shoved to the back of her mind to bother her when they took the drink away from her.

It's only when they start on their way with Daylen on one side, Morrigan on the other, with Sten and Shale protecting her, she realizes she'll manage.

She's not okay. She's far from okay, but she'll make it. At least for a little while.

Her eyes can't stop from drifting over to him, no matter how much she tells herself it will hurt. He looks as if someone beat the hell out of him.

And she hopes none of them decided to beat him up.

No matter how much he hurt her, this is painful for him too, she knows. They don't need to make it worse.

At one of their stops, she manages to slip away from Daylen's protective hold on her and sneak over to where Alistair sits alone, sharpening his blade.

As she approaches, he looks up in surprise, accidentally dropping his sword.

"Hi," he blurts, then looks down.

She raises her hand, and he flinches as if afraid she'll slap him.

But as a blue light flows from her hand into his bruised cheek, he seems to calm.

"What happened?" she whispers.

Alistair sighs. "Shale."

Avina lets out an almost-laugh. "Ah."

"Did you need something?" He asks.

"I just..." she covers her face. "I wanted... to talk about... us."

But he just sighs and looks away from her again. "I thought we'd already said everything that needed saying."

"How can you expect me to accept this?" She says quietly. "I can't, Alistair. I just can't."

"That doesn't change the facts," he points out. "I... I love you, Avina. I'll always love you. But there are things that are more important than what I want. I wish... more than anything... that it were otherwise."

Her shoulders slump in defeat as she exhales. "I know," she murmurs. "I just wish it were easier."

Alistair's face twists in pain, and he nods. "I don't think anything's supposed to be easy about being a king. Or a Grey Warden. We have a job to do, so please... let's focus on the task at hand. Thinking about you is just too painful. And too tempting."

So she leaves him alone, just as Daylen returns from filling his canteen.

She doesn't approach him again.

* * *

**Alistair**

Her visit almost breaks his resolve.

How can she be so forgiving still? So considerate of his feelings, when he's crushed hers so thoroughly?

It only reminds him of why he fell for her.

And it hurts more than anything.

* * *

**Morrigan**

Before she met Daylen, Morrigan had never been in love.

Before she met Avina, Morrigan had never had anyone she considered a friend.

But with the knowledge she's gained from these relationships, she knows how Avina feels.

It would be just as painful if Daylen were to leave her.

For the first bit of time, she was shocked. If anyone would bend the rules, no matter what the were for, to be with the one they loved, she thought it would have been Alistair. The sap was crazy for Avina, and she for him.

Now, Morrigan finds herself rather disappointed in Alistair's lack of stubbornness in this issue.

But somehow, this makes her realize just how much she has right now.

And how unwilling she is to lose it.

Her friend, her love, her child...

Her plans are crumbling. And yet, she cannot bring herself to care. When it comes down to it, she is where she wants to be.

* * *

**Daylen**

They arrive at Redcliffe to find it in ruin.

Of course. Because this job can't be easy.

One of the villagers run towards them as they approach.

"It's... its' you! The Grey Wardens!" He pants. "Andraste's mercy that you got here when you did! I thought for sure these monsters were going to get me."

"What happened?" Dalyen demands.

"Where is everyone?" Avina asks.

The survivor points towards the castle. "They all fled to the castle this morning, before the darkspawn arrived. I thought I could make it to my place and back before they got here, but it took me too long to get down here. What a relief you arrived!"

"Go on," Daylen urges. "Get to safety."

The survivor nods. "I'm going to get out of here before any more of those things arrive! Thank you again!"

* * *

Making it to the castle is a lot easier than Daylen thought it would be.

But the darkspawn reach the gates just as they do.

Two ogres, among dozens of other darkspawn come in, but with the aid of Redcliffe soldiers, they manage to fight them off without trouble.

When the final beast falls, one of the soldiers finally greets them. "Grey Wardens! You're here! Thank goodness!"

"What happened here?" Daylen asks.

"I don't rightly know," the man admits. "Riordan of the Grey Wardens arrived this morning just ahead of the darkspawn. I was told that he has urgent news, and to send out patrols to watch for your arrival. Then we were attacked..."

"Take us inside immediately, then," Daylen orders. "There can be no more delays!"

The man nods. "I'll take you to the hall right away, my lord. They'll be waiting for you there."

* * *

Riordan, Eamon, and Teagan are there waiting for them when they arrive.

Riordan smiles as they enter. "It's a relief to see you unharmed. And you as well, Alistair... or shoud I say your Majesty?"

Alistair frowns slightly. "Err... no. No, I wouldn't say that. Not yet, anyway."

"The darkspawn that attacked Redcliffe were relatively few in number, I'm afraid," Riordan informs them. "It was assumed that the horde was marching in this direction... but that is not true."

"Riordan tells us that the bulk of the horde is, in fact, heading towards Denerim. They are perhaps two days away from the capital," Eamon tells them.

Alistair gapes. "What? Are we sure about that? I mean... if that's true..."

Riordan nods. "I ventured close enough to 'listen in,' as it were. I am quite certain."

Daylen steps forward. "Then we need to march at once."

"There is, I'm afraid, one other piece of news that is of even greater concern," Riordan warns. "The archdemon has shown itself. The dragon is at the head of the horde."

Bann Teagan sucks in a sharp breath. "Maker preserve us!"

"But we can't reach Denerim within two days, can we?" Alistair reminds them. "It's too far."

It may have taken them, a small group, a short time to reach Redcliffe from Denerim, but an army... One without horses in the hundreds...

"We must begin a forced march to the capital immediately, with what we have," Eamon says firmly. "Denerim must be defended at all costs."

"The archdemon is what's important," Daylen says.

"And only the Grey Wardens can defeat the archdemon," Riordan agrees. "That is why we must go."

"Then we march," Alistair declares. "And hope the army we've collected here gives us the chance we need. Arl Eamon, how long before the army can set out?"

"By daybreak," he replies gravely.

Alistair nods. "Then let's get them ready. I won't let all thoe people die without giving them a chance."

"Let's do it," Daylen encourages.

"I will give the orders at once," Eamon says. "And will notify you the moment we are ready to march."

"That would be appreciated," Alistair tells him.

Riordan stops them before they all leave. "If you two and Alistair could meet me before you retire, we have Grey Warden business to discuss."

"I will have someone show you to your rooms," Eamon offers. "I suggest you all get some rest, while you can. We will need it."

* * *

Daylen knows better than to put of something when it, and time, are so important.

So he goes right upstairs and into Riordan's room to hear what it has to say.

Because he has a feeling, this is not going to be good.

Riordan is waiting for them, his face grave. "You're all here. Good."

The three of them nod.

"You are new to the Grey Wardens," Riordan continues. "And you may not have been told how an archdemon is slain. I need ot know if that is so."

Alistair raises an eyebrow. "You mean there's more than just, say, chopping off it's head?"

Riordan sighs. "So it is true. Duncan had not yet told you. I had simply assumed... Tell me, have you ever wondered why the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?"

"I have wondered that, yes," Daylen says.

"The archdemon may be slain as any other darkspawn, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough."

Avina swallows. "And... what happens to the Grey Warden?"

"A darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel," Riordan explains. "But a Grey Warden is not. The essence of the archdemon is destroyed... and so is the Grey Warden."

Alistair's brows lower in realization. "Meaning... the Grey Warden who kills the archdemon... dies?"

Riordan nods. "Yes. Without the archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way."

"Then I would like to take the final blow," Avina states.

Daylen looks over at her, a hardened, stronger version of what she once was.

Riordan shakes his head. "If possible, the final blow should be mine to make. I am the eldest, and the taint will not spare me much longer. But if I fall, the deed falls on you. The Blight must be stopped now or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble. Remember that. But enough," he says. "There will be much to do tomorrow and little enough time to rest before it. I will let you return to your rooms."

Alistair turns to Daylen. "I will see you once the army is ready to march, then. I guess this ends soon, one way or another."

"That it does, my friend, Riordan agrees. "That is does."

* * *

**Avina**

Avina hurries to her room, the one beside Alistair's, to prepare, and quickly shuts the door behind her, not realizing that she is not alone.

When the door latches, a voice startles her.

"I need your help."

"Morrigan?" She blurts in surprise. "What-"

Morrigan cuts her off. "It's more important than you know that you trust me now, please! There is no one else I trust enough to turn to."

Avina looks bewildered, but she is not one to deny help when it is needed. Part of the reason why she's a good choice. "Okay, Morrigan, but, please tell me what's going on."

"I know what happens when the archdemon dies," she says urgently, quietly, as if she expects to be overheard. "A life must be sacrificed, and that sacrifice could be any one of you."

"How-?"

"Let me finish," Morrigan says quickly. "I have a way that this can be avoided. I have a way out. A loop in your hole. A ritual. Performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night."

If anything, Avina looks more and more confused by the second. "Um, alright, what is this ritual?"

"What would need to happen is this: convince Alistair to lay with you, here, tonight. And from your union, a child will be conceived. That child will bear the taint. Once the archdemon is defeated, it's essence will seek the child like a beacon. At that stage, the child can absorb the soul, and not perish."

Avina is speechless. She opens and closes her mouth, not knowing what to say, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.

"If you care for him the way you seem to, then you will do this, for him, and for all of us," Morrigan urges.

"Alistair would not agree to this, even if I did," Avina mutters, looking down at her feet. "He does not want me anymore."

Morrigan frowns deeply. "Then you are both fools. Even Sten can see how much that buffoon still loves you, and how you love him in return."

Avina lets out a shuddering breath. "I can't," she whispers. "He won't... he wouldn't..."

"You can," Morrigan says firmly. "You needn't say anything about the ritual if you don't wish to. Once he has laid with you, it will be done. No life will need to be given."

Avina bites her lip for a moment, deliberating. "But the child," she protests. "I would have a child?"

"One possessing the soul of an old god," Morrigan confirms. "And you need not raise it alone."

Avina's eyes widen at the offer. "Would it... would the child be alright?"

"Yes. The child would not be harmed."

Avina covers her eyes to think for a moment.

But her choice has already been made.

Deep down, she knows how much Alistair still loves her. And she knows that, given the chance, he will take the final blow. To protect her. To protect them all.

And Daylen... Just thinking of his arrogant smirk reminds her of another piece of her family she is not willing to lose. One she would do anything to protect. He's a good man underneath it all, and he will do anything that must be done.

"There is one more thing I have to tell you... you're the only one I can bring this to, so please, listen..."

* * *

**Daylen**

Daylen is going to have so much fun going to sleep tonight.

He gets himself ready, getting out of his robes and climbing under the covers of the bed for a good long time of staring at the ceiling.

At least, that was the plan until Morrigan comes in, a troubled look on her face, and she closes the door behind her and strips down to her smallclothes on her way to his bed.

It's almost as if she knows what he's thinking. Someone will die tomorrow, and that someone could be him.

He holds the covers up for her as she climbs in, and she settles into his arms.

"Are you alright?" He whispers.

Wordlessly, she nods, but he can tell she's not telling the truth.

He slides a hand under her chin and forces her to look at him. "Morrigan," he murmurs. "What is it? What's wrong?"

She takes a deep breath. "Do you love me, Daylen?"

It's certainly odd for her to ask this at this point, but he nods anyway. "Of course I do. And there's nothing you can do about it."

Her lower lip quivers. "If I told you something that changed what we have, would you hate me?"

Daylen huffs. "No. Even if you told me you were running off with Sten." He pretends to think about it. "Okay, maybe not that... this isn't what you want to tell me, right?"

She shakes her head. "Daylen, I..."

He rubs her back reassuringly. "It's alright. Just take your time."

She closes her eyes for a moment, as if afraid Daylen will explode when she tells him what's on her mind.

"I'm... with child."

Daylen blinks.

Then he blinks again.

And inhales sharply.

Well.

"You're... pregnant," he says slowly.

Morrigan nods.

"With my child," he clarifies.

Again, she nods, awaiting his response.

"I didn't know that was possible," he laughs quietly, almost disbelievingly.

But he knows Morrigan would never lie about something like this.

"How long have you known?"

"Since the Deep Roads," she says quietly.

Daylen blanches. "What- Morrigan, why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know," she muttered, somewhat defensively. "How was I to know how you'd respond? 'Tis not something I have ever experienced before, and I-"

He pulls her closer, hushing her. "It's alright. It's just... a big thing." He almost grins like an idiot. "I'd never thought that I would have a child. Not in the Circle, and not after I'd become a Warden..."

"If you do not want a child with me, I will respect your wishes," Morrigan tells him.

He looks at her as if she's crazy. "Nonsense!" He declares. "I will train him in his magical ability, and he'll be the most handsome and talented boy who ever lived!" He looks back at her, more seriously this time. "I told you I wouldn't abandon you, Morrigan," he reminds her. "That hasn't changed, especially if you carry something so special to both of us. If you would rather I go, rather I leave you alone, however, I would not force you to stay with me. I would only ask for a chance to help raise our child. He deserves to have both parents."

Morrigan looks at him skeptically. "How do you know it will be a boy?"

"Because I'm magical," he argues, and his head ducks under the covers.

"What are you doing?" Morrigan demands, peeking beneath the blankets at him.

His hands come around her waist, holding her in place, and he gently places a kiss where their child slumbers in her womb.

* * *

**Avina**

Avina fusses with her hair before her vanity, arranging her long waves prettily around her face.

She wears a silken white nightgown, one given to her by Isolde. It's very pretty, but she worries she'll look too needy, too desperate.

With a sigh, she turns from the mirror and puts her face in her hands.

How will she be able to do this? If she cannot leave her room without second-guessing herself...

The knock on her door startles her out of her thoughts, and she rushes over to the door. Is it Morrigan, telling her to act fast? Is she being warned of darkspawn, attacking the castle? Has something happened? Is something wrong?

She pulls the door open, and freezes.

"Alistair?" she whispers.

He stands outside her door, wearing a nightshirt and trousers. He looks tired, as if he is unable to sleep as well. He swallows, then clears his throat.

"Can I... come in?"

Wordlessly, she steps aside for him so he may pass into the room and closes the door behind him.

When she turns, he is standing in the center of the room, looking into her fireplace, his back to her. He is tense, she can tell, from the way he stands.

She can't think of a thing to say.

Finally, he faces her. There are lines on his face that should have no business on such a young man. He looks older than he ever has, and it's obvious to her now that he hasn't been sleeping well for a while from the dark circles under his eyes.

"So, this could be it," he says quietly.

He has come to say goodbye.

She is across the room in an instant, her arms thrown around his neck as she stretches on her toes to reach his lips with hers. He hesitates only a moment before responding, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her tightly to him.

He kisses her like he is a drowning man and she is air, hungrily, passionately, with an edge of despair. In his mind, he thinks this is the last night he will ever have.

Avina kisses him back with the same desperation, because she knows this is the last night she will share with him.

He sheds his shirt as she leads him towards her bed, and pulls the nightgown off over her head. There are no words now. Only need, heated and frantic and demanding between them. They both know they won't get the chance to be together again when tomorrow comes. And right then, the thought is unbearable.

When it's over, and he's sleeping with an arm around her, she lets the tears she's been holding in for so long well up and spill over. She kisses each of his cheeks, his forehead, then finally his lips.

"I love you," she whispers brokenly, so quietly that she can barely hear herself.

An apology, for what will come when the sun rises. He will never see her again when the fight is over.

As she falls asleep in his warm, comforting embrace, tears staining the sheets, she prays that he will forgive her someday.

* * *

She wakes just before dawn, her room dark, her bed cold and empty.

"Alistair?"

There is no answer.

She is alone.

On the pillow where he laid, she feels the cold of metal. She lights a candle to see.

There, just beside her, is an amulet. Familiar to her, silver, with many cracks on it's aged surface...

Fresh tears fall down her cheeks as she pulls the sheet over herself, as if that will block out the pain.

He is gone.

And is certain he will die.

* * *

Morning comes too quickly, and they begin the march that will decide everything.

No one says a word on the trip.

Perhaps they are too nervous. Perhaps they simply have nothing to say.

Whatever their reasons, the silence hangs heavy over them as they urge their army forward as fast as they can.

To Avina, the trip is a blur. It seems quick to her, almost too quick for her liking.

At last, they arrive in Denerim, which is absolute chaos.

But strangely, Avina is not afraid anymore.

She thought she would be, but she isn't.

Before, she had something to die for. But something to live for is even more valuable.

With both, it leave her more determined than before.

But why should she fear? She and her companions lead the charge, and as she looks around her she sees the best that Ferelden has to offer.

Daylen Amell, the insufferable battlemage.

Alistair.

Morrigan, the Witch of the Wilds.

Griffon.

Leliana, the bard from Orlais.

Sten of the Beresaad.

Wynne, of the Circle of Magi.

Zevran, the former Antivan Crow.

Shale the golem.

Oghren, of the Orzammar knight-caste.

She stands with the bravest, most skilled fighters in Thedas, and with them, she could accomplish anything.

Defeating the Blight? No problem.

* * *

**Daylen**

The gates are absolutely crawling with darkspawn, but he fights like he's never fought before.

Void take them if they think they can take him away from what he has now.

They spread out, going in all different directions to fight off the darkspawn.

These beasts never stood a chance.

Riordan manages to catch up to him once the fighting dies down a bit.

"You've manages to fight your way to the gates," he notes. "We're doing better than I hoped."

Sten crosses his arms. "That will change quickly."

"Bloody nug runners," Oghren curses. "We're outnumbered three to one!"

"What are we to do now, Riordan?" Wynne asks. "You have a plan, I assume?"

"The army will not last long, so we'll need to move quickly to reach the archdemon," he tells them. "I suggest taking Alistair and no more than two others with you into the city. Anyone you don't bring with you can remain here to prevent more darkspawn from entering Denerim on our tails."

Daylen scratches his head. "How are we going to fight a flying dragon?"

"We're going to need to reach a high point in the city..." Riordan thinks for a moment. "I'm thinking the top of Fort Drakon might work."

Alistair gapes at him. "The top of...? You want to draw the dragon's attention?"

Riordan nods. "We have little choice, though I warn you that as soon as we engage the beast it will call all its generals to help it. I can sense two generals in Denerim. You may wish to seek them out before going to Fort Drakon."

"I'm sure that if we did slay those generals, it would stop the darkspawn in the city from doing a lot of harm," Leliana adds.

"It may also waste resources trying to find them," Riordan tells them. "The decision is up to you."

Daylen nods. "I'm ready."

"Who do you wish to take with you into the city?"

"Alistair, Zevran, and Oghren," Daylen decides.

"Fair enough," Riordan says. "Anyone else will need to remain here and assist in keeping more darkspawn from coming in the gates behind us. Who will lead them?"

"Sten would be suitable," Avina tells them.

Sten nods. "Very likely."

"Good. That should be sufficient." Riordan looks to Daylen. "Nothing you have done has prepared you for what you face now. May the Maker watch over you."

Daylen shakes his hand. "You as well."

They will all need it.

* * *

**Avina**

Before they go, they have a chance for a final goodbye from their companions. They all crowd around them as they prepare to go, each of them stopping at one of them to say their goodbyes.

Oghren comes to her first. "So. This is it."

"It's been an honor to fight with you, Oghren," she tells him honestly.

Oghren smiles. "Honor? Nobody's looked at me and seen honor in a long time, Warden. You took in a drunken disgrace of an Orzammar warrior. You gave me a reason to fight and the will to keep going. You helped me find the one woman in the sodding world who might put up with me, and you helped me get past Branka so I could have someone new. I owe you a lot, Warden. I consider it a fine honor to die for you and your cause."

Avina claps him on the shoulder. "The honor is mine, my friend."

Oghren chuckles. "Then it's sodding honor for everyone. That's war for you. Let the stone turn red from the blood of heroes. Today I will be the warrior you taught me to be."

And he moves on.

Shale comes next.

"So the archdemon is next, is it?" She asks. "Part of me is glad that it has decided to leave me here at the gate, but the other part is... apprehensive? I would almost say that I feel concern for something other than myself, even maybe for a soft, squishy companion... but that would be silly, wouldn't it?"

This has to be the sweetest thing Shale has ever said.

"Thank you, Shale," Avina tells her. "I appreciate the thought."

Shale turns to go, then looks back. "And... do try not to get swallowed whole. If the beast were to fly about afterwards and poop it out, irony would dictate that it would land on me. I couldn't take it."

Avina can't help but laugh.

"Well, then," Shale says. "I suppose this is it? Have fun storming the castle."

Griffon trots up to her, looking at her with his sad puppy eyes.

She ruffles his ears. "Don't worry," she says. "I'll come back."

He gives her a wolfy grin, barking happily.

Sten is next.

"Are you ready?" He asks. "We have reached the battlefield at last."

"Thank you for your help, Sten," she murmurs.

He shakes his head. "I have done nothing. You have carried us this far. Do not doubt that."

Avina smiles, knowing she will never forget him.

Leliana steps forward. "So, this is it... this is the end. We've come so far. It's strange knowing that all our fates will be decided in a matter of hours." She looks somewhat disappointed. "I wish I could go with you."

"Me too," Avina admits.

Leliana has become her best friend over the time they've spent together.

Leliana bows her head for a moment. "You have been a true friend and I... I will be extremely cross with you if you... don't return. Be careful out there. I will see you soon."

Then Zevran is swaggering up to her, a grin in place as if he has no cares in the world. "So now we head into the city together to face the archdemon, hmm? Good. I was nearly afraid you were about to march inside without me. We cannot have that!"

Avina laughs. "No, we can't."

"Let us go and teach this dragon a lesson, yes?" He says. "It should have stayed in whatever hole it crawled out of."

There's a tap on her shoulder, and she turns to see Morrigan standing beside her.

"I will see you when this is all over," she states firmly. As if there is no question at all.

Avina surprises her by pulling her into a hug.

"Yes, I will," she promises. "Thank you for everything." And she releases her.

Morrigan smiles. It might be the first smile Avina has seen that wasn't a smirk or sarcastic sneer. "Go, slay your archdemon. Live gloriously, my friend."

When she turns back, Alistair is there.

"This is it," he says quietly.

There is so much he is saying in those three words. His despair, his decision to take the final blow, his pain...

She can't stand it.

Like another time, she throws her arms around his neck and forces his head down so she can meet his lips with hers.

She thinks perhaps he'll fight, push her away, but after a moment of hesitation he pulls her to him, angling his head and opening his lips to her.

She doesn't know how long they stay like that. It's as if this moment doesn't exist; that when they break apart, the world will go on, but for now time stands still.

But they have a city, and a country, to protect.

She pulls back, resting her forehead against his. "I love you, Alistair," she breathes.

"And I love you," he responds. "Always."

And just like that, time is up.

Time to be a Grey Warden.


	32. Killing Archdemons and Such

**For those of you who dislike or disagree with the way I've gone with the story (not that anyone has reviewed saying such so far), let me explain a couple things.**

**If you refuse to make the old god baby with Morrigan but have already slept with her, she will have a child anyway. So what I've done is not too farfetched.**

**I thought to myself, if she was already pregnant, why would she need to sleep with the Warden on the eve of battle? She always claimed that the child being concieved the night before the battle was crucial. So apparently, if you refuse her, she happens to be pregnant already. If you don't, she isn't. **

**I thought that was kind of a crock of shit. It's actually where I got the idea for the story. **

**And for those who'd like to argue that a female Warden can't carry a child, I'm going to reveal a little bit of a spoiler.**

**Anyone remember Alistair's mother? She wasn't actually a servant, FYI.**

**She was an elven Grey Warden.**

**Not only did she carry Alistair successfully, but she did so without a blood magic ritual.**

**But if you have any other arguments, please do let me know.**

**So if you're here to hate, flame, troll, etc., read up on the facts first. **

**If you're not, and you're here because you're a romance nut like me, then I welcome you. **

**And salute you for admitting it :D**

**This has been a really _incredible_ journey for me, learning and growing as an author. You guys really helped me with your support, and I was finally able to get off my medications without any problems. I owe you guys so much.**

**I honestly never expected to get as much notice as I did. I mean, 60 follows? 30 favorites? 40 reviews? Fan art?**

**It means so much to me that you guys like this story so much, even though this is my first story I've let anyone else read.**

**With this chapter, this story is done.**

**But this isn't the end.**

**I will be writing a sequel, which will be up soon. **

**And because I'm just a sap like that, it will most likely be a happy ending.**

**I'm going to continue editing, trying to make it better, and your feedback is really helpful. Now that it's done, I'm thinking I'll actually change the story from present-tense to past-tense as discostu10 suggested. Let me know if you think I should.**

**Again, thank you guys so much for even taking the time to read this. I hope you'll let me know what you think, no matter what it is. **

* * *

**Elran**

As a hunter, Elran has never seen anything like this before.

Part of him is terrified. The most dangerous thing he's hunted is wolves, and now he's shooting down darkspawn beside the Grey Wardens.

Part of him is amazed, and thrilled, and excited to be part of a battle that is sure to be remembered through the ages. His decedents will remember him with pride, and even the humans will be grateful to his people for their aid.

It is a mix of fear and pride that keeps his aim true.

Though he fights for the Wardens, he does not see one until he hears the horn; he is one of the few nearby who answer the call.

Fort Drakon, he learns the place is called, is full of dead darkspawn. Instead, the call has come from the very top.

He and his brothers are joined by a mage, a knight, and a dwarf.

But they are not prepared for what they see.

Across the roof that has become a battlefield, he can clearly see two mages as they attack the biggest creature Elran has ever seen in his life.

A dragon, large with scales of deep purple, breathes fire down on them, and they do not fall. They simply throw fire back at the creature, seemingly uncaring of their surroundings.

As he and his comrades run forwards, he can see other darkspawn in combat with other elves and a dwarf.

But he can tell why they called for the Dalish; fighting a flying dragon is not easy without ranged weaponry.

Elran fires arrow after arrow at the winged creature, but few actually puncture it's flesh, most of them bouncing off of the dragon's tough scales.

Several times does he come face to face with death. Darkspawn summoned by the archdemon swarm the roof, and many of his brothers fall to their blades, magic, and arrows.

But every time he comes close, something saves him.

Sometimes, the elven mage heals him. She only does it once or twice, but it is enough for him to be grateful.

Sometimes, another manages to take the beast's attention away from him.

Sometimes, he's fast enough to dodge.

Though many fall, there are a few who never seem to go down.

The mages, one male, one female, and an older human with a grey beard.

The dwarves, one a man with ink on his face with dark armor, and the other a man of red hair.

An elf, who moves so fast Elran can barely tell that it is a man. He seems to be everywhere at once, quick to dodge and duck.

And a warrior with golden armor and the Grey Warden emblem on his shield.

Elran silently decides that this must be the king.

The king fights the darkspawn along with the dwarves and the elf, while the mages and the Dalish hunters attack the archdemon with everything they have.

Briefly, he wonders why the dragon doesn't fly away.

But there's something wrong with it's wing, he realizes. There's a bloody gash along it, running from the top and slicing all the way down. Like someone took a sword, stuck it though the leathery skin there, and dragged it down.

It's crippled.

It has no hope of escape now, not with the tear, along with many arrows, in it's wings.

It's entire body is covered in blood, both it's own and likely others'. And it's strength is fading, along with the number of darkspawn near enough to answer the beast's call.

The king struggles to free himself from the last of them as the archdemon roars in fury, trying to reach it...

But one of the mages is closer. And faster.

The man rushes forward, seizing a discarded greatsword in both hands as he goes.

The archdemon lunges for him, stretching out it's neck, but the mage ducks, sliding the sword under it's throat.

It's blood sprays everywhere as it lets out a scream of defeat as it collapses, and the mage is lucky it doesn't land on top of him.

But he isn't done.

He uses the weight of the sword to his advantage, bringing it over his head and plunging it straight into the dragon's skull.

But then a light is exploding upwards from the archdemon's body, shooting straight up into the sky.

Stunned, he looks over at the others.

They can only stare and gape back at him.

The light grows stronger, and brighter, and Elran shuts his eyes for a moment.

Then the blast hits him, and he probably hits his head when he's knocked back, because he blacks out.

* * *

And then... it was over.

With the archdemonn dead, the darkspawn horde quickly crumbled. Most fled back into the Deep Roads. They would remain a threat in the years to come, but the Blight had been ended before it had truly begun.

Ferelden had been saved, and the entire kingdom rose up to joyously greet it's new king.

The Grey Wardens stood redeemed, and a new age had begun.

But at what cost?

* * *

**Alistair**

Alistair won't lie.

He has no idea how Daylen survived killing the archdemon.

He doesn't really care.

Because he's alive, and Alistair is alive, and Avina... wherever she is, is alive.

The entire kingdom was ecstatic at their victory at the Battle of Denerim. The cheering hadn't stopped since they'd come down from Fort Drakon.

He is king now. His country adores him, for the moment, and everything he cared about is safe.

But this victory tastes bitter.

Daylen stands beside him as an advisor for the moment, where he promises he will be for at least a few more months. It's a relief, to have this piece from his past guiding him, teaching him how to lead.

He just wishes Avina was here to help balance him, as she always had before.

She just... vanished. He remembers seeing her after the battle, but as soon as they made it back to the gates, she was gone.

He asked everyone if they knew where she'd gone, and he continues to ask every chance he gets, but not even Leliana, Wynne, or Daylen know.

Or they're exceedingly good liars and want to keep her hidden. And this wouldn't surprise him.

But he won't stop looking for her, he knows. No matter how much his new advisors hate it. No matter what they say.

* * *

**Daylen**

Daylen enjoys this victory as much as the next person, but after all is said and done, he does not care for fame.

When the bards, authors, poets, and whatever else ask about how he should be portrayed, he asks them to leave him out.

He is not the true Hero of Ferelden.

And if she shall be forgotten, then so should he be.

Avina was nowhere to be found. During all the celebrations, the rebuilding, and for a little while afterward.

It was as if she never existed. People were eager enough to forget an elven mage in favor of a human man.

Maybe it was what she'd planned all along.

Alistair asks him every day if he knows anything about where she'd gone, and every day he tells the truth. He doesn't. Even if he did, he isn't certain he would tell. It might hurt them both more than it would help.

As he promised, he stays with Alistair for a time. He owes him that much, and with Morrigan busy with her search, it gives him plenty of his own time.

It is six months before he finally bids Ferelden's new king farewell to take up his duties as Commander of the Grey.

Surprisingly enough, this announcement is met with sadness.

They throw him one last party before he departs, and though he appreciates the thought, he leaves early.

He has a few more things to pack, and he has time to write to Morrigan-

He opens the door to his room to find a visibly pregnant elven servant scuttling about, her back turned to him. He clears his throat to alert her of his presence and steps aside so she can leave.

But when she turns to face him, he is momentarily stunned.

Avina fixes him with a saddened gaze, one hand resting on her swollen belly. "Daylen. I need your help."

* * *

**THE END**

**FOR NOW...**


End file.
